Blackbird
by Liesel Fogel
Summary: Antonio walks into a small coffee joint, hoping for just some caffeine to take the edge off of late-night studying for midterms, and gets a whole lot more than he bargained for in the form of a snarky, foulmouthed, Italian barista.
1. Treat

Antonio walked into the small bakery/coffee shop on a late autumn afternoon, the bell on the door jingling as he opened it, signaling his arrival. It was a tiny joint, inside the University's union building, nestled between a bank and a Subway. Since it was so small, there were just a few tables, shoved to the edges, and a small counter at the front where just one server worked.

The single person at the counter looked up at the sound of the bell ringing, and Antonio caught a glimpse of their face- bored, irritated, depressed, and radiantly, undeniably, beautiful. His name tag read, "Lovino Vargas," and Antonio made a mental note of that name.

A little nervous, he approached the counter. "

I'll have something sweet, please." He asked, not knowing what to get. This was not his first time at the bakery, but it was his first time seeing this new, fresh person.

"How about a mocha?" the words were mechanical, rehearsed, and yet as they spilled from the person- Lovino, his name was Lovino, wasn't it- Lovino's lips, Antonio found himself intoxicated by that voice, that little accent that hinted at something exotic.

"Sure."

"Would you like to add a bakery treat for just 99 cents, on our special offer?"

"I- Yeah, a treat- I'd like a treat," Antonio mumbled, suddenly incredibly self-aware that he hadn't showered that morning and that his shirt was on backwards.

Lovino nodded his head, as if to say, 'continue,' but Antonio didn't know what that meant. He stared at Lovino, tongue-tied. Lovino sighed.

"What treat would you like?"

"You." Antonio blurted before he could stop himself. He covered his mouth with his hands quickly, embarrassed. Lovino grew slightly pink but said nothing. "I- I'm sorry," he apologized quickly. "I didn't mean-"

"How about a tomato and mozzarella pastry?" Lovino's words cut through Antonio's frantic apologies. Antonio nodded, glad Lovino had handled the situation.

"You- Your name is Lovino." Antonio pointed out, desperate to save himself in the eyes of Lovino.

Lovino looked up from taking the pastry out of the glass case where it was contained.

"Yeah. I know."

"I'm Antonio!"

"That'll be $3.99."

"My full name is Antonio Fernandez Carriedo- do you live around here? I'm a student at the university- are you?"

"I just moved here from Italy almost a year ago. I work here and take classes on the weekends. I'm in the university studying abroad program, sort of. It's where they give top students from other countries scholarships. Cash or credit?" Antonio could detect the impatience in his voice but he couldn't say goodbye, not yet.

"Cash, please. I'm majoring in psychology. I'm hoping to become a therapist- what about you? What classes are you taking?" Antonio pulled out his wallet, deliberately taking longer than he needed to.

"I'm just learning how to not be a total fuck-up, basically."

Antonio was stunned. "Oh." He pulled out four dollars from his wallet, noticing with annoyance that that was the last of his money. He passed it to Lovino's outstretched hand, their hands touching for just a fraction of a second. Lovino quickly pulled away, looking down so Antonio couldn't see his face, but Antonio saw that the tips of his ears were red.

"I didn't know the university offered classes like that.." he attempted to keep up the conversation.

"They don't," Lovino replied briskly. "I'm not taking classes from the university. My younger brother got the scholarship- he's the genius. He's doing painting. I went with him after.." Lovino abruptly stopped talking and changed the subject. "I'm taking weekend classes at the community college twenty minutes away."

"Oh… I'm sorry.." Antonio felt like a complete dick for prying. Lovino held out his hand. "I already paid," Antonio said, confused.

"There's tax," Lovino said, still looking down.

"Shit," Antonio cursed, fumbling around in his pockets for spare change, for anything. "I don't have any money left."

Lovino looked up and around, as if someone could be watching them. Then he dug a crumpled dollar from his pocket and dropped it in Antonio's hand surreptitiously.

"Just this once," he warned, but Antonio hardly heard him, he was smiling so much.

"Thank you so much- I'm sorry, I'll pay you back later. When do you get off?"

"Nine PM, every night. Would you like it to go or for here?" Lovino printed out the receipt and handed it to Antonio.

"Here, please."

"When it's ready would you like me to bring you your drink and treat?" Lovino was back to business, grinding coffee beans with loud crunches that reminded Antonio of the sound of leaves crunching under his shoes.

"Sure. Thank you very much." Antonio sat down and unpacked his backpack. He had originally come with the intent of working on his homework, but he wasn't sure how much he would be able to get done. After a couple minutes Lovino appeared with a small plate and a pastry and a steaming mug. He was wearing an apron over a tight-fitting longsleeved black shirt and slightly ratty jeans, the bottoms frayed. When he bent over to place the mocha and pastry on Antonio's table, his shirt rode up and Antonio could see his slim waist.

"You look- I mean- _it- _the food- looks delicious," he stammered.

"Uh-huh."

"Wait- can you stay? Can we talk?" Antonio pleaded as Lovino turned and began to walk away.

"I have customers," Lovino said irritably.

"Please?"

Lovino sighed and walked back to Antonio's table. "After work," he promised begrudgingly. "I get off at 9."

"Thank you!" Antonio beamed up at Lovino, and he swore he saw Lovino blush before he turned quickly on his heel and hurried away, busying himself behind the counter.

* * *

Antonio checked his watch for the millionth time, inwardly groaning when he saw that it was still just 8:30. The stream of customers had slowed down considerably, and now the only people left in the coffee shop was him, Lovino, and an old lady determinably sipping her tea and solving the newspaper's crossword puzzle. Lovino started to clean up, wiping down the coffee machines and the counter and locking away the flavored syrups and coffee beans and so forth.

Finally the old woman raised the teacup with shaking hands to her chapped lips and downed the last few drops. Taking her crossword puzzle with her, she tottered off and out of the shop. Lovino took her teacup and sniffed it. He grimaced.

"She keeps putting whisky in her tea," he complained. Antonio laughed.

"I guess you could say she's got… _high spirits," _he joked. Lovino glared at him and started washing up the cup in the sink. Finally he finished and put it on the drying rack. He wiped his hands and pulled out a chair across from Antonio.

"So. Why do you want to talk." It wasn't really a question, more like an accusation of some sort.

Antonio shrugged. "I dunno," he said. "Just thought it'd be nice to get to know you or something."

Lovino groaned and sat back in his chair. "Do you normally do this with all coffee shop baristas?"

"No, just you." Lovino rolled his eyes.

"I have to be out of here by 9:30. If you're still set on talking to me after then, we can go outside. There's a park by where I live if you

want," Antonio stared at him, dumbstruck. "What?" Lovino snapped. "You said you wanted to talk. So we're talking. That's it."

"Right, right." Antonio shook his head and stared into his empty mug, watching the milk foam coagulate at the bottom.

They sat in silence for a moment, Antonio staring awkwardly at the dregs of his mocha, when finally Lovino got the nerve to speak up.

"So are we gonna talk, or are we just gonna sit here wasting time?"

"Right. Sorry." Antonio rubbed the back of his neck. He had so many things he wanted to ask Lovino, but when the moment arose they

all abandoned him. "Um."

Lovino sighed. "I'll start then. Where are you from?"

"Spain, originally, but when I was fifteen we moved to America. You just came here, right? How are you liking it? This town, specifically?"

"It's all right. There's so many tall buildings, it's all urban. I can't see the stars. I don't really know much about this town, I don't know where anything is. I could look around, but I just get nervous in new places a lot and I don't know any people, and I get lost, and then I get really freaked out and anxious, so I go and kick dustbins and plastic flamingoes over. If there was someone who knew the city and was willing to show me around, that would be nice, but I don't have any friends." Lovino played with the wrapper of a sugar packet as he spoke, twisting it around and around until it tore. He sighed in annoyance and grabbed another sugar packet, twisting and twisting nervously.

"I could show you around, if you want," Antonio offered. "I've been here for a long time, so I think I know it pretty well. And I'm sure you have friends- even I have some!"

"There's my brother. And that's it."

"You should leave the house more! Go out, party! Woo!" Antonio raised his arms enthusiastically, as if he was dancing.

Lovino surveyed him with a look of half interest, half disdain. "I don't go to parties," he finally said, delicately, as though it were a painful subject. His hands, folded in his lap were suddenly a great interest. He stared at them, picking at his fingernails.

Antonio wisely decided not to pry further. He checked his watch. "It's 9:30," he said. "Should we go?"

Lovino looked up, startled. He looked at the clock on the wall and nodded. He stood up, stretched, untied his apron and folded it neatly and stored it under the counter, and then pulled on an old hoodie. He turned off the lights, adjusted the 'closed' sign, and then held the door open for Antonio.

They walked, silently, Lovino leading the way. Antonio noticed he was shivering and rubbing his arms.

"Don't you have a coat?" he asked. Lovino shook his head.

"Here." Antonio unzipped his coat and held it open. "Get in."

"You want me to get in your coat?" Lovino asked disbelievingly. Antonio nodded and made a 'come here' gesture. Lovino rolled his

eyes and stepped in. Antonio zipped the coat back up around them both, feeling Lovino's body pressed up against his. It was a nice feeling, sharing the body heat between the two of them.

"A wild Lovino appeared! Antonio used _Pokeball! _It's _super _effective!" Antonio joked. Lovino gave a sort of heavy exhalation and Antonio was confused for a moment, until he realized that Lovino had laughed faintly, as if he had forgotten how to laugh.

"You laughed!" Antonio exclaimed, astonished. "That's the first time I've heard you laugh!"

"You've only known me for a couple of hours. Stop acting as if we've known each other for years," Lovino huffed, although Antonio could see a weak smile entertaining his face.

Lovino took a step. Unfortunately, Antonio hadn't been expecting to walk just yet, and he toppled over on top of Lovino. Lovino attempted to shove him off, but forgot that they were sharing the coat and instead just fell on top of Antonio. Irritated, he tried to get off of him, but the coat was tight around both of them, and he was pressed back down, his face sticking out just above Antonio's shoulder. Antonio reached his arms out to unzip the coat, and for a moment he was tempted to instead pull Lovino closer, to never let him go. Instead, he unzipped the coat and Lovino climbed off of him, his face red.

Antonio got up and brushed himself off. He held the coat open again, but Lovino refused.

"I think I'll just go with being cold," he said. "The park isn't too far."

Antonio shrugged. "Suit yourself." They walked in silence for a bit.

"Keep to the right," Lovino warned him, as they took a shortcut through a dingy alleyway. There were no streetlights, and Antonio couldn't see anything, it was pitch black.

"Where are you?" his voice sounded like a child's, and it was only in the dark, without Lovino that he realized how afraid he was of losing Lovino.

"Over here." Lovino's voice sounded far off, and Antonio tried to quicken his pace, his arms out in front of him, feeling around in the darkness. Antonio's shoe slipped on something wet, glazed over with ice and he fell forwards, yelling and trying to regain his balance. Suddenly a hand shot out and grabbed him and hauled him upright and he almost screamed, not knowing who the hand belonged to, until there was a small click and a lighter flicked open, creating a flame that cast a magical orange-yellow glow around them both.

"You okay?" Lovino asked. Antonio nodded. Lovino sighed. "God, you can't even walk correctly. Here," Lovino offered out his hand. "I'll lead you through."

A little embarrassed, Antonio took it. Lovino deftly wove in and out of the maze of dustbins and old rubbish, Antonio stumbling along behind him, until eventually they rushed out of the alleyway and back into a small, narrow street. Antonio looked around. It was the grotty part of town, a broken neon 'OPEN' sign in the window of a small Chinese chippy, flickering between red and blue. One of the windows had been broken and covered up with canvas.

"This way," Lovino said, unfazed. They did not break hands, and Antonio thought Lovino might have squeezed his hand reassuringly for a second there, but then again, it could have just been his imagination. They walked down the street, still holding hands. Worn-out people sat on the front porches of their worn-out homes, smoking, their eyes following the two of them, but saying nothing. Lovino kicked an empty beer can aside and it rose up, carried by the wind for a moment, before clattering back down to the street.

"I live just up there, behind the Adult Video Store," Lovino said, pointing to the left. "The park's not much further."

"Right." Antonio nodded solemnly. The area made him feel melancholy and lonely, and he wondered how Lovino could stand it alone with no friends or companions. He shivered. It was very cold, even in his coat, and he glanced at Lovino and saw that a thin layer of frost had accumulated on the tip of his nose from the wet, his teeth chattering.

"Why don't we just go to your place?" he suggested. "It's really cold- I'm cold, and I'm wearing a coat, and you- you're wearing nothing! It's dangerous if you stay out here too long without a coat, you could get hypothermia!"

"I'm fine. Let's just go to the park."

"But you must be so cold, it's more logical to just go to where you live and warm up-"

"No." Lovino interjected him. "We either go to the park, or not at all."

"But you look so cold, and it would be silly for me to just come all this way and then go back- I really think we should just go to your place, maybe I could stay the night..?'

"I said _no." _Lovino was obstinate. He stopped walking and pulled his hand out of Antonio's. (Antonio realized later as he was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling but not seeing it and seeing instead Lovino's face, that that meant that Lovino must have been aware that he was still holding hands with Antonio, and that it had been a conscious decision on Lovino's part to remain holding Antonio's hand, even after they had exited the alley.

Lovino squared his shoulders and drew himself up, trying to make himself look taller. It didn't work, partly because he was noticeably shorter than Antonio, and partly because he was also trying to conserve body heat by hunching over, his arms drawn close to his chest. However, Antonio got the message.

"Fine," he sighed, turning away and starting to walk back. "See you." He gave a little backhand goodbye wave to Lovino as he left, but did not turn around. Lovino watched him leave until he was completely out of sight, and then turned and started to walk.


	2. Necessary Precaution

"Good morning, how may I help you today?" Lovino asked, not looking up from the inventory notes he was taking. Antonio leaned over the counter, palms down on the flat surface, his face a couple inches away from Lovino's.

"Hi!" he beamed. Lovino looked up and started when he saw him so close, jumping back and throwing out a hand, pushing Antonio away.

"Oh. It's you," he said in a flat tone.

"You don't seem happy to see me," Antonio remarked, not hurt by Lovino's blatant dislike for him, partly because he could tell it wasn't real. He could see it was a front Lovino maintained, and he didn't mind it. If that's what Lovino had to do to be comfortable around people, then that was what he had to do. He could also see how that could cause problems, however, around other people who might not have as adequate insight. Working in the psychology and therapy field had made it easier for Antonio to understand and notice specific quirks or motions or manners a person may do subconsciously.

"Has anyone ever been?" Lovino said dryly. Once again, he waited, and Antonio waited too, not sure what for. "Are you going to order or not?" Lovino finally blurted.

"Oh. Right. Large mocha for here, please."

"Would you like-"

"I'll have what I had yesterday, thanks." Antonio dug in his pocket for his wallet and extracted the money needed. "Here's six dollars."

He handed it to Lovino and Lovino put in in the register and drew out the necessary change, his palm out to Antonio, but Antonio took Lovino's hand and curled his fingers around the change.

"Keep it," he said, his hand lingering on Lovino's a bit longer than necessary. "I owe you from yesterday."

Lovino coolly whisked his hand back out of Antonio's and deposited the change in his pocket, glaring suspiciously at Antonio.

"Would you like your-" he started, but Antonio interrupted him, knowing what the question would be.

"I'll have it brought to me, thanks." Antonio stepped back to his table in the corner below the clock, where he had sat yesterday, waving at Lovino. Lovino ducked behind the coffee machines and for a minute or two all Antonio could see of Lovino was that one curl, bobbing away as he worked.

Finally Lovino stepped out from behind the counter and brought him his pastry and coffee. Antonio noticed he was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and that although it was clear that Lovino had washed, his clothes hadn't. They had a wrinkled, 'slept-in' look to them, and as Lovino got closer, Antonio could see the bags under his eyes, sleep dust encrusted in his tear ducts.

"Rough night?" he laughed, as Lovino set down his mocha and pastry in front of him.

"Whether it was or wasn't isn't any of your business," he replied sharply. He set down the mug of hot coffee heavily, and a bit spilled over the side and onto his finger. "Shit," he hissed, drawing his hand back quickly and shaking it vigorously in an attempt to cool the burn.

"Sucking on it works better," Antonio advised him, trying not to laugh at his pain and failing miserably.

"Shut up," Lovino huffed, walking away, one hand flailing wildly as he returned behind the counter and waited for another customer. Antonio looked around, there was no one else in the shop. He looked up at the clock and saw that it was only 7:45 am. His first class was at 10, so he had plenty of time to spare. He glanced over at Lovino, who didn't seem interested in talking at all.

"There's no one else here," he told him. "We can talk, it'd be okay."

Lovino ignored him. Antonio sighed and opened up his book.

Twenty minutes later, Antonio finished his mocha. He looked up from his book, to ask for another, but saw that Lovino was slumped over the counter, snoring quietly. Antonio laughed and Lovino woke with a start, looking around frantically until his eyes rested on Antonio.

"I'll ask again- rough night?" Antonio said playfully, for the second time. Lovino made a sort of noncommittal groan, as if he was too sleepy to answer properly.

"Call me if anyone comes in," he yawned, and got up and walked into the bathroom. Antonio watched the door close behind him and then returned to his book.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Antonio started to get concerned.

Thirty minutes later, he started to worry.

Forty-five minutes after Lovino had gone into the bathroom, he finally made the decision to go check on him and see if he was alright.

He walked into the bathroom, looking for Lovino.

"Lovino?" he called, garnering no response. He leaned down to look under the stalls and saw Lovino's skinny legs splayed out, as if he had fallen or collapsed against the wall of the stall. He got down on his stomach and squeezed through the gap at the bottom of the stall, then got back to his knees once fully inside the stall.

Lovino was sleeping, leaning against the wall, his legs spread out in front of him. Antonio laughed, relieved. There wasn't much space in the tiny stall, so Antonio had to settle for sitting on Lovino's thighs, facing him.

"Lovino," he whispered, attempting to wake him up. Nothing happened. "Lovino," Antonio repeated himself, this time louder, and patted Lovino's cheek. Lovino's olive skin was soft, and smooth and Antonio found himself cupping Lovino's cheek. His skin felt like silk under Antonio's rough hand. His lips, even when asleep, formed a slight pout, and they looked full and as soft as the rest of Lovino and absolutely kissable.

Antonio's eyes darted around Lovino's face, noting how his dark brown hair parted in one place, how it framed his head, his dark, long eyelashes, the little freckle under his left earlobe, and his eyes started to wander away from Lovino's face and to his body as well. Lovino's thin slope of a neck stretched down and curved into his shoulders, creating a perfect parabola. Antonio could see Lovino's collar bones; thin and delicate like a bird's, swooping down under his shirt, and he ached to see what the rest of Lovino looked like, under his clothes, longed to feel Lovino's bare body under his…

Without realizing it, Antonio's face drew closer and closer to Lovino's, trying to see more, to feel more… the tip of his nose brushed against Lovino's, his hand still cupping Lovino's cheek, his thumb rubbing back and forth across his skin, relishing it's smooth softness…

Lovino's eyes opened, and Antonio had a split second to read the emotions that flicked through the brown-green: first, surprise, at seeing another face, then shock, realization upon seeing it was Antonio, and finally anger. Lovino stood up quickly and shoved Antonio off him. Antonio stumbled, then regained his balance and looked up, only to see Lovino pull pepper spray out of his back pocket and press the nozzle, sending the spray straight into Antonio's eyes and nose.

"I'm sorry!" Antonio gasped, feeling tears stream down his cheeks as a reaction to the pepper spray. He couldn't see and his eyes stung, so he rubbed his eyes with his palms to try to ease the pain, but it only made it worse. "I was trying to wake you up!"

"Like hell!" Lovino spat.

"Why do you even keep pepper spray on you?" Antonio coughed, doubled over, his hands over his face.

"It's a necessary precaution." Lovino coolly deposited the pepper spray back into his back pocket.

"Jesus fucking Christ, mate, you-" Antonio paused and so did Lovino, listening intently as the bell on the door rang, signaling a customer had come.

"I'll come back in a couple minutes with a cold rag," Lovino said quickly. "Wait here. Don't move."

"A cold rag would be lovely, actually, thanks," Antonio said, starting to regain some sight, although his eyes still stung like hell. He heard the sound of the lock on the stall door being turned and then heard Lovino hurry out.

"What can I get for you today, ma'am?" he heard Lovino's voice say, muffled. He could almost see it in his head, Lovino at the counter, smiling falsely and wiping his hands on his apron nervously, laughing at a bad joke the woman made about parking tickets or traffic, grinding the coffee beans and serving her. For some reason the image of Lovino smiling and laughing with someone else, even if it was false, made Antonio angry.

He felt around for the stall door and found it, stumbling around the bathroom, his arms held in front of him. He ran into a counter and leaned forward, feeling a faucet. He turned it and held his face under the spigot as cold water began to run into his eyes and down the side of his face, dripping into his ears and wetting his hair. He stayed like that for a while, bent backwards like some sort of bathroom limbo dance, as the water soothed his eyes until the pain was mostly gone and his back was cramping so badly he felt like an eighty year old woman. He turned off the tap and toweled his face dry with a paper towel that felt like cardboard.

He left the bathroom and ran into Lovino, who was just returning with a cold, wet, rag.

"Sorry," he mumbled, letting Lovino step back first so that Antonio could make his way back to his table.

"You used the sink," Lovino pointed out.

"Yeah. Is there a problem?"

Lovino sighed. "Just don't drip on the floor." He put the cold rag away and then went to the woman, who was sitting at a table on the other side of the room from Antonio.

"Is everything to your satisfaction?" he heard Lovino ask her, as he wiped down the table next to her.

"Oh yes, thank you very much." She gave him a warm smile and Lovino returned it. "You seem very young," the woman said, although she herself looked to be only twenty-five. "Are you a student here?"

"No, no, I'm just a lowly coffee grinder," Lovino shook his head, laughing.

"Don't say that," she giggled, placing a hand on his arm. "The coffee is excellent."

Antonio stared at the two of them, noticing how Lovino seemed to actually be enjoying her company, noticing how the light coming in from the large windows seemed to envelop and surround Lovino, how it looked as if he was glowing. He looked happy, talking to the woman, and Antonio felt another surge of unreasonable anger. _He_ wanted to be the one Lovino was smiling at, the one who Lovino was laughing with, the one who Lovino didn't act as though he hated. The woman was kind, and very pretty, and she and Lovino were now chatting, as if they had known each other for years. It occurred to Antonio that she and Lovino would make a perfect couple, and it hurt, almost, when he thought that.

Eventually she stood up, swinging her bag over her shoulder and tying her hair back into a ponytail and left, thanking Lovino and waving as the door closed. As soon as her back turned away, Antonio saw the look on Lovino's face slide off, as if he was removing a mask, as if his face were a board he was wiping clean, and he knew that Lovino's friendliness with the woman had merely been another act, like the one in which he hated Antonio. It made Antonio feel better, but not much. If that was the facade Lovino kept up with everyone else, why did he have a different one for Antonio? Why did he feel the need to act coldly to Antonio, and not everyone else?

Lovino swept by Antonio while he was deep in thought, still staring at the now empty table.

"Your mug is empty," Lovino pointed out as he passed. "Want a refill?"

"Huh?" Antonio awoke from his daydream and checked his watch. "No thanks, I'd better go. Have a nice day."

"Right." Lovino looked down at the mug and picked it up, taking his time, as if there was something he wanted to say. But he said nothing, and Antonio hurried out of the coffee shop.

As he left, he wondered if the expression Lovino had had on when he saw him was also melting off, like it had with the woman.


	3. Like a Cat

Antonio did not return that evening. He had homework, and besides, he felt slightly awkward after creeping on Lovino while he was sleeping. As he struggled, the face of Lovino filled his head: when he smiled at that woman. When he was sleeping, like a delicate porcelain figure. When he woke and Antonio could see himself reflected in his eyes. He couldn't concentrate. Annoyed, he closed his notebook and grabbed his coat, deciding to go for a walk to cool his head.

As he stepped out of the dorm, he felt himself relax as the cold air hit his face. A walk. This was what he needed, to clear his head of Lovino. And yet as he rounded the corner, he spotted the familiar dark brown hair half a block away, standing in line in a small Chinese take-out restaurant. He didn't want to be seen, lest Lovino think he was not only a creeper who preyed on sleeping men, but a stalker too. Yet he still was curious, wanting to see what Lovino did on his nights off, so he hid himself in the adjacent bookshop, looking through the glass showcase window, pretending to read a book.

He watched as Lovino received his order in one of those little white cartons with the plum sauce and chopsticks and fork taped onto the side, and Lovino took his food into the alleyway just by the side of the window and sat down heavily on one of the trashbags. Antonio could see him perfectly, and watched silently as Lovino ripped open the carton and began to pour fried rice, the cheapest item on the menu, into his mouth hungrily. When he had gotten most of the rice, he reached into the carton and ate the stray bits of rice still stuck to the inside of the carton, one grain at a time, then tore the cardboard in such a way that it was flat and licked it completely, getting all possible food residue off it. Then he tore the lid off the plum sauce and licked the inside of that feverishly, until it was all gone and the little plastic container was spotless. He opened the fortune cookie and devoured that whole, not cracking it in half or taking out the fortune. He did this all in under ten minutes, and when he was done, he examined the carton and the lid and the fortune cookie wrapper to make sure there was no food left. He licked it all off, again, and then leaned against the dirty alley wall. He looked hopelessly at the clean remains of his dinner, as if he was still hungry. Looking around to make sure no one could see him (although Antonio stayed where he was, watching with amazement), Lovino grabbed the napkin also and began to eat that too, tearing at the thin paper with his teeth.

Finally he leaned back against the wall, exhausted, and scanned the alley, looking for anything else he could eat. He glanced at the window, and looked at the many books hungrily, as if he was contemplating eating those too. Then he saw Antonio and their eyes met.

Lovino stumbled to his feet in an instant and shot forward, pressing himself against the glass, yelling something at Antonio, but Antonio couldn't hear him. He could tell just by looking that Lovino was angry, however, and he wondered why. Lovino's breath fogged up the glass and Antonio could no longer see him as well, and he gestured silently, trying to tell Lovino that he couldn't hear and that he was sorry for whatever he did, but Lovino didn't seem to notice, or was either too angry to care. Antonio quickly exited the bookshop and attempted to make a speedy getaway, but Lovino grabbed him from behind, pulled him into the alley, and tackled him to the ground, sitting on Antonio's stomach to stop him from moving, leaning forward and holding Antonio's wrists down also, breathing heavily.

"You speak of this to _no one," _Lovino threatened, his face flushed red from anger. "Got it? No one."

"Right, right- I'm sorry- I saw nothing, I promise!" Antonio apologized quickly. He didn't want to get pepper sprayed again. Lovino leaned down closer, his face just above Antonio's, staring Antonio down. Finally he seemed satisfied and leaned back up, swinging his leg back over and standing up. Antonio got to his feet also, brushing off his jeans.

"I wasn't creeping on you," he said, although to say that now was pointless. "I was actually just taking a walk and happened to see you- sorry bout that." Lovino raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Antonio wasn't sure what to do now; should he just leave or was there something else he was supposed to do, some other social rule that people abided by whenever they saw a friend eat a napkin, so he stood there also and said nothing, hoping Lovino would leave first so he wouldn't have to be the one to awkwardly step out of the alley. Yet Lovino was not relenting, staring fiercely at the night sky and determinedly not looking at Antonio. Finally Antonio gave up and slid out of the alley.

* * *

Antonio walked into the coffee shop the next morning, a little scared that Lovino might attack him as he ordered his usual mocha and pastry. Yet

Lovino acted cool and brisk, as if last night had never happened, as if Antonio was just another customer.

"Sorry," he whispered as he handed over the money, but Lovino ignored him. Instead of having his drink and pastry brought to him, he waited at the counter, hoping to speak to Lovino, but to no avail. "Sorry about accidentally seeing you last night," Antonio said again.

"Forget about it." Lovino handed Antonio his mocha and got out the pastry and put it on a plate. "Have a nice day," he said vaguely.

"Thanks." Antonio turned his coffee mug around and around in his hands. "I was wondering if…" he started to say, a little unsure, but then was cut off as another customer walked into the coffee shop and Lovino greeted them.

"Good morning sir, how may I help you today?" Lovino asked, with not so much as a glance to Antonio. Antonio sighed and sat down, defeated, as Lovino served the next customer. Finally the customer left, after getting six coffees for his coworkers, and Antonio opened his mouth, about to speak, but then Lovino disappeared into the backroom for a while and then came back out, closing a notebook. He must have been taking inventory, Antonio realized, as Lovino then stored the notebook neatly in a drawer.

"Honestly, I wasn't stalking you or anything last night," Antonio said. "I just-"

Lovino held up a hand to cut him off. "It's fine," he said wearily. "Just forget about it."

Antonio brightened. "Great! Thank you. So we're good, then?"

Lovino sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "We're good," he assured Antonio, but he seemed distracted.

"Is something the matter?" Antonio asked.

"No," Lovino said. He seemed sincere, and Antonio wondered what exactly it was that was making Lovino act so melancholy.

"Anything on your mind?"

"No," Lovino said, in a slightly more irritated tone. "Just drink your fucking coffee and go to your fucking bourgeois University like the rich brat you are."

"Ah... Problems with the University? With your brother?"

"None of your fucking business, cunt-face."

"Hey, hey," Antonio protested, but he was laughing. "I'm just trying to help."

"Too bad."

"No, but really- I'm learning to be a therapist, I could help." Antonio couldn't help prying, he was just Lovino sighed.

"I just got off the phone with my grandfather."

"And?"

"And the rest is none of your business," Lovino said coolly.

"That's pretty harsh." Antonio sipped his coffee, not really knowing what to say. "Are you doing anything this weekend?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Apart from school? No. Someone else comes in on the weekends, so I have them off. I don't start class until two, though. Why?"

"I was thinking we could do something. It's Friday today, do you get off early?"

"Yeah, at seven." Lovino looked at Antonio doubtfully.

"It's warmer today, maybe we could go to the park you told me about after work?" Antonio suggested with a lopsided smile. "And you also mentioned you needed someone to show you around town. I'd be glad to."

"I- I don't know." Lovino picked up the broom again and began to sweep.

"Go on," Antonio urged. "It'll be fun!"

"If it's with _you? _On the contrary." Lovino raised an eyebrow and turned away.

"You could come back to my dorm and I can show you Gato!"

"Gato?"

"He's my pet turtle, he's sooo cute! You'll love him!"

"You named your turtle _Gato?"_

"Yeah. So?"

"Doesn't gato mean 'cat?'" Lovino pointed out.

"Well, yeah, but he makes this weird little sound when he's happy, that sounds sort of like a cat, I guess."

"Really. A cat."

"Yeah," Antonio insisted. "It sounds like this- mrrrrrrr_rrrrrrrnnnn." _Lovino stared at him disdainfully and Antonio tried it again, sticking out his neck and moving his jaw backwards to imitate a turtle. He folded his fists into his armpits and stuck out his elbows to mimic fins and waved them about. "Mrrrrr_rrrrrrnn. Mrrrr__**rrrrrrnnnn.**_" He did it again, for emphasis.

"And- And he walks really slow! Like if I lay down, he likes to walk up my body and sometimes it can take him almost an hour to get just from my ankle to my neck. It's a weird feeling, at first, feeling something else walk on you, but after a while it becomes really relaxing and calming. You know?"

"Not really."

"Oh." Antonio deflated. "Well, you should definitely come over to my dorm, then, and try it out!"

"No thanks."

"You know those Galapagos tortoises?" Antonio asked, undeterred. "The giant ones? They're said to be about 4mpd!"

"Mpd?"

"Miles per day."

"Miles per _day?" _Lovino repeated incredulously. "Four miles? Thats it?"

"I know, right? And those tortoises are so big, they can weigh up to 600 pounds! And Charles Darwin- do you know Darwin?"

"I know _of _him, yes."

"Yeah, well Darwin, when he was in Galapagos, a long time ago, like the… I dunno, 1500s or something-"

"1800s," interrupted Lovino. "It was in the 1800s. Victorian England."

"Right," Antonio scratched his neck, a little embarrassed at his blunder. "Well, anyway, at that time, the tortoises were so tame he could ride on them! Like, sit on the back of the tortoise and ride it like a horse!"

"I can't imagine it was a most effective means of transportation if they only traveled 4 miles per day," Lovino said dryly.

"But still- riding on the back of a giant tortoise! How cool would that be?!"

"I guess it would be kinda cool," Lovino admitted reluctantly.

"'Kinda cool?' It'd be _hella _cool!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just let me get back to work." Lovino dismissed him, returning to his sweeping.

"Yeah, I should probably leave if I want to get to class early. See you tonight, then?" Antonio asked, packing up his things.

"I never said yes, you know."

"I'll come back before closing time. You'll have the whole day to decide. See you later!"

"Bye," Lovino said. As Antonio left the shop, he saw the woman from yesterday enter and felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. He quickly turned his head and looked down at his feet, shuffling away, shoulders hunched. He didn't want to see Lovino smile at that woman, even if it was false. But what he didn't see, as he turned away, as the woman walked in, was that Lovino's eyes were on him until he was out of sight, staring at him almost longingly.


	4. Big D

That evening, when Antonio returned to the coffee shop, he saw that it was closed and locked up and everything, and standing in front of it was Lovino, rubbing his hands together and stamping his feet, little clouds of breath emanating from his lips.

"Were you.. waiting for me?" Antonio asked, surprised, but also quite pleased.

"No! I was just… standing. Nothing to do with you!"

Antonio grinned. "You were totally waiting for me. And you even closed the shop early." He nodded towards the dark interior of the shop behind Lovino.

"There was no one there," Lovino argued. "Why shouldn't I close it?"

Antonio laughed. "Come on," he said. "Let's go." He took Lovino's hand and started to walk. Lovino tried to tug his hand away, but Antonio held fast.

"Your hands are freezing," he realized.

"Maybe they wouldn't have been if you hadn't kept me waiting so long!" Lovino snapped.

"So you admit you _were _waiting for me?"

"I- I didn't say that!" Lovino protested.

"Yeah, you just did."

"You heard me wrong."

"Fine, fine, whatever. But your hands are like ice- here, let me warm them up." Antonio took Lovino's hand and lifted it to his lips,

blowing on Lovino's fingers. "That better?"

"D-Don't do that!" Lovino cried, wrenching his hand out of Antonio's and thrust it into his pocket.

"Do what?"

"Th-I-You-" Lovino stammered, and then stopped, shaking his hand. "Forget about it. Never mind."

"Alright," Antonio said, a little confused, but he decided to just go with it. "It's this way, right? To the park?" He pointed to the alley that he and Lovino had gone through a couple days earlier.

"Yeah. Don't slip this time." Lovino swiftly passed Antonio and swept into the alley. Antonio followed and within seconds lost sight of Lovino and all that was around him. He walked slowly, daintily, trying to feel the ground with the tip of his shoe before he placed his whole weight on it, so that he wouldn't slip on ice as he had the other day.

Finally they made it through and Antonio was relieved to see light again. They walked side by side, in silence, and just as they passed the small Chinese chippy they heard a woman's scream. Antonio froze, panicked.

"Stay here," he heard Lovino command him, but he couldn't process the words. Lovino ran off and he felt a hot, wet feeling inside his stomach, not knowing what to do, mouthing the words Lovino had said and thinking them, one by one. By the time he realized what Lovino had said, Lovino had already darted back, supporting a teenage girl of about seventeen. Antonio stared, frozen, not knowing what to do.

"Take her in there," he heard Lovino say, pointing to the Chinese place, the words rushing and tripping over each other. Lovino looked over his shoulder and Antonio looked too; he could see a gang of white boys running out of the alley, shouting at Lovino. Lovino turned back to him and Antonio focused on him, his eyes, his lips, the curve of his face, and he felt somewhat calmed. "Call the police," Lovino said. He thrust the girl into Antonio's arms.

"What about you?" Antonio's words felt sluggish, lazy, sloshing around in his mouth. He nodded at the advancing horde.

Lovino grinned and turned away, patting his back pocket, and Antonio remembered the pepper spray. He nodded curtly and ran off.

* * *

Antonio placed the girl gingerly on one of the tables in the Chinese restaurant.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I- I'll be fine." she said shakily.

"I'm going to call the police now. Did they hurt you? Do you need an ambulance?"

She shook her head, then leaned over the edge of the table and threw up. Antonio held her hair back for her as he got his phone out of his pocket. He found a wadded tissue in the depths of his pocket and got it out for her to wipe her mouth with.

"I- I knew him," she said, a little unsteadily, after she was finished. "He sits behind me in English class- always seemed nice, I.." she shivered and hugged herself. Antonio finished dialing the police and told them the address and what had happened.

"Can you watch over her? Make sure no one comes in?" he asked the stunned person behind the counter. They nodded. A man stepped out from behind him, a wok hefted over his shoulder, his long black hair pulled back into a ponytail.

"I'll take care of her," the man said, stepping into a fighting stance. Antonio nodded his thanks and ran out the door.

Lovino and the gang were no where in sight. As Antonio stepped forward, looking around frantically, he heard something crunch under his shoe. He lifted his foot and looked down.

Below him was Lovino's can of pepper spray, dented and crushed, lying on the asphalt.

* * *

"Lovino!" Antonio yelled. He ran around for a while, looking desperately. He heard laughter coming from a nearby alleyway and he crept towards it. He peeked around the corner of the alley, craning his neck, and saw Lovino, on his knees, surrounded by the gang. One of them was holding Lovino's arms behind his back, above his head, another stood directly in front of Lovino.

"Take his shirt off," the boy standing in front of Lovino commanded. One of the other ones watching bent down and pulled the hem of Lovino's shirt up, but couldn't take it off entirely without letting go of Lovino's arms, so he bunched it up over Lovino's neck.

"If you hold his hair back he looks kind of like a girl," another commented, and the one in front of him grabbed a hunk of Lovino's bangs and twisted Lovino's face up. Lovino wasn't struggling or protesting, in fact, no emotion was visible in his face. It was completely blank.

"Damn, you're right," the one in front of him muttered. "Shit, this is getting me hard." He released Lovino's hair and Lovino's head fell forward. With a jolt, Antonio saw that the boy in front of Lovino had let go of him so that he could unzip his own pants. He took out his cock and shook it in front of Lovino.

"Suck it," he said. The others chortled. "Go on, suck it! Suck my dick, you fucking fag!" the boy yelled. Lovino lifted his head slowly, his face still blank. Antonio opened his mouth to yell and got ready to charge, to fight, but Lovino caught his eye and gave a tiny, almost imperceptible shake of the head. Antonio didn't want to just stand there, but Lovino obviously had something up his sleeve.

He decided to stand by and wait, in case something went wrong.

The boy in front of Lovino was still yelling obscenities at him, the others joining in too. Lovino bent forward and kissed the tip of the boy's cock lightly and the others racked in laughter, holding their stomachs.

"Yeah, that's right," the boy sneered. "You like that, don't you, you little cunt." Lovino said nothing and opened his mouth wide and leaned further, his mouth around the shaft. And then he bit down. Hard.

The boy squealed in pain as Lovino ground his teeth into him and clawed at Lovino's face, trying to push him away, but Lovino held tight and the boy's efforts to move Lovino only made his teeth scrape down his length and cause more pain.

"Someone stop him!" he shrieked, as his other gang members watched, stunned. Antonio bit back a laugh. Finally one of the gang members successfully pulled Lovino off of the boy. Lovino spit out blood and what Antonio could see of the boy's cock was bloody and mutilated. He clutched his crotch and cried out in pain. Lovino laughed and started to stand up, but then one of the other gang members grabbed him and forced him face-down to the ground, one foot on his back, one hand twisting Lovino's arms behind his back.

"No one does that to Big D," he growled.

"Not so Big D anymore," Lovino laughed, but his laugh turned into a groan of pain as the gang member twisted his arms further.

Another placed his boot on Lovino's head and ground it into the concrete and Lovino cried out in pain, his voice muffled.

"I say we teach him a lesson," the one holding his arms proclaimed. The others nodded in approval and one got up and got behind Lovino, tugging at the waistband of his jeans. Lovino made a frantic noise and he kicked out with his legs, struggling against the grip on his arms, but the person behind him just sat down on his legs, stopping their movement. He started unbuckling his own belt, and it was only then that Antonio realized what was happening, that they were going to rape Lovino and he had to stop them… but he couldn't, he couldn't- he had a deathly fear of fighting, of hurting another human being. Violence made him feel sick, and yet there was nothing else he could do, it would take a couple more minutes at the least for the police to get there… he felt like he was going to throw up, felt dizzy and he had to lean against the wall and take deep breaths. But then he realized how Lovino must be feeling, how much more scary this must be for him, and the thought of Lovino hurt and afraid gave Antonio the strength he needed.

Lovino's screams became more fervent, shriller, more desperate and Antonio heard one of them say, "Me next," before he charged into the alleyway.

Antonio grabbed the shoulders of the boy, now attempting to spread Lovino's legs, which were still kicking as furiously as they could, and pulled him off of Lovino, slamming his head into the wall once, twice, three times, then let go and watched him fall to the ground, a spot of blood on the wall. The one holding Lovino's arms dropped them and backed away, but Antonio got to him first, landing a hook kick on the back of his knees, causing him to tumble to the ground. Antonio shoved the one standing on Lovino's head off of him and punched him square in the face. The boy aimed a punch at Antonio but he ducked and headbutted him in his stomach, grabbing the boy's shoulders and throwing him aside. Antonio watched as the others started to run and held out a hand to help Lovino up, but

Lovino got up by himself, pulling his pants back up from where they had been tugged halfway down to his knees.

"You okay?" Antonio asked.

"Yeah. Watch out."

"Huh?" Antonio looked around just in time to see the one that had held Lovino's arms coming at them with a knife. "Lovi-" he started to say, for the boy was coming right at him, but Lovino ducked and kicked the knife out of his hand, catching it as it fell. In an instant, he whirled back up and held it to his throat.

"Now," Lovino grinned evilly. "Take off your pants." The boy didn't move, frozen by fear, and Lovino bent down and pulled his pants and underwear down to his ankles. "My," he said, gazing downwards. "Not very big, is it?" The boy whimpered. "If a bit of it went missing, you'd hardly notice," Lovino taunted. Tears started to dribble out the corners of the boy's eyes and down his cheeks, his chin shaking. In a flash, Lovino reached down and grabbed the boy's penis and in one swoop of the knife, he cut it clean off. The boy cried out in pain and reached out, but Lovino smacked his hands away.

"Don't you dare touch anyone without their permission ever again. You got that?"The boy nodded quickly.

"Good. Here's your dick back. If you're lucky, maybe they'll be able to stitch it back on." Lovino shoved the boy's severed penis into his hands and started to walk away. Astonished at what he had just saw, Antonio hurried and followed.

* * *

"Don't you think you went a _little _far?" Antonio asked, as they walked.

"No. He deserved it."

"Yeah, but… you cut his dick off."

"Glad to see your skills of deduction are up to speed."

Antonio didn't know how to answer that. "Where actually are we going?" he asked, a little scared of Lovino.

"The park. Wasn't that where you wanted to go?"

"Yeah, but it's almost ten.. and are you sure you're okay? I don't think it's wise to stay out much longer, they or another gang might come back. Shouldn't we just go to your pl-"

"No. We're not going to my place. If you don't want to come to the park with me, fine. I'll just sit there by myself." Lovino said stubbornly.

"Don't be outside at this time of night, alone! Look at what almost happened- if you really don't want to go to your place, then come to my dorm!" Antonio protested. He laid a hand on Lovino's shoulder and was amazed to see that he was shaking, trembling. "Look, you're still shaking! I don't care what you say, I'm taking you back to my place."

Lovino smacked his hand away. "I don't need your help," he said angrily, but he was still trembling visibly, and it was warm enough that Antonio could tell it wasn't from the cold.

Antonio softened. "I'm sorry," he said, pulling Lovino into his arms. "It must have been so scary for you."

"I said I'm _fine! _Let me go!" Lovino struggled furiously and Antonio released Lovino, stepping back reluctantly.

"Why don't we go back to my dorm?" he asked one more time. Lovino didn't answer. "C'mon," Antonio said again, offering his hand.

"Let's go." He saw Lovino lift his hand, hesitating, hovering over Antonio's outstretched one. Then he wavered and stuck his hand in his pocket, looking away.

"Fine," he mumbled. "Let's go."


	5. Gato

_Hi, there was some issue apparently, it kept translating it into html code. I'm not sure why; some people thought I uploaded it on my phone but I don't have a smartphone, I just used my computer. I think I've fixed it but please tell me if not. Sorry._

* * *

Lovino stepped into Antonio's dorm room gratefully and sank to the floor, leaning against the bed.

"You okay?" Antonio crouched down beside him. Lovino nodded.

"Just a little bit dizzy," he said. Antonio grabbed a bottle of water from his desk and twisted the cap off, handing it to Lovino. He gulped it down.

"Thanks." He wiped his mouth and Antonio could see now in the light the extent of Lovino's injuries. There were scratches on one side of his face, from where his face had been ground into the cement, and Antonio could see little bits of grit still sticking to his skin, in his cuts. His cheekbone was bruised, but apart from that it wasn't too bad. Antonio reached over and stroked Lovino's wounded cheek, but Lovino flinched at his touch and Antonio pulled back quickly.

"Sorry, he muttered. Lovino looked down at his feet and pulled his knees to his chest but said nothing. They sat in silence for a while, neither of them knowing what to say.

"Sorry about what happened tonight," Antonio said quietly. Lovino didn't speak. Antonio didn't know what to do, but the silence was making him feel more and more awkward by the minute.

"You wanna see Gato?" he asked finally, getting to his feet. Lovino looked up and Antonio walked over to his pet turtle's cage on his desk and opened it, carefully reaching a hand in and picking up Gato. He placed the small turtle on the floor in front of Lovino and sat back down beside him.

"Pretty cute, huh?" he asked, trying to keep his face and conversation light and happy, although he still had an awful churning feeling left over from that night's previous incident. He was happy that he had saved Lovino, and that Lovino had retaliated, yet the thought that Lovino had almost been raped scared him so much he couldn't breathe, like there was an anvil on his chest. He had always been a 'good kid,' never staying out too late or getting in dangerous situations, and while he knew that 'that' part of town existed, he had never been there or even seen it, and so it remained to him as almost a fantasy land. He found it hard to believe that there were people in that very town who didn't know where their next meal was coming from, who didn't have anywhere to live, who had to resort to drugs and prostitution and alcohol as their only savior. And tonight, that fantasy world which had never really existed to him had now become shockingly real.

Even when Lovino had cut that boy's penis off, his hands had been shaking. He had seemed so in control, reassured of his own power at the time, but when Antonio thought back about it, it seemed Lovino must have been more scared than the boy. Antonio's own fear seemed so small and insignificant compared to Lovino's, yet even as he told himself this, trying to snap himself out of it, he couldn't stop feeling as though the walls were closing in on him.

"Hey." Lovino poked Antonio's cheek and he awoke from his thoughts. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." Antonio nodded unsteadily. He tried to think of something to do to take his mind off of what had happened but it seemed he couldn't focus on anything but that. "Sorry for spacing out. I just can't… I don't know. I've never been in a situation like that before."

Lovino raised an eyebrow but remained silent, playing with Gato.

"I mean," Antonio continued, trying to explain how he felt but not knowing how, "How are you okay with it? How can you just… sit there and pretend it didn't happen?"

"Just because I act nonchalant doesn't mean I'm okay with it. But," Lovino took a deep breath and leaned back, picking up Gato and holding him in front of his face, "I figure I got him back even. You know? Sometimes you just gotta move on. Forget the last second and wait for the next one."

Antonio digested that sentence, letting it swill around in his brain. "I guess you're right," he said finally. Lovino put down Gato and leaned on Antonio, resting his head on Antonio's shoulder.

"Of course I am," he smiled lightly, and in that moment, Antonio thought he was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Antonio wrapped his arm around Lovino and pulled him closer and they sat like that for a long while- how long, neither of them could tell. Finally, Lovino whispered, "What time is it?"

Antonio looked up at the clock. "11:30," he whispered back.

"Shit." Lovino broke away and started to stand up. Antonio's arm fell limply away from Lovino's shoulders and came to rest on the ground. The space between his arm and body felt so hollow, so incomplete without Lovino there.

"What is it?"

"I should go home. I'll see you Monday." Lovino looked around, as if looking for something, then stopped. "They took my sweatshirt," he said. "Can I borrow one of yours?"

"You're going back? Alone? At this time of night?" Antonio could feel the queasy nausea that had left him as he had held Lovino build up in his stomach again.

"Yeah. There a problem?"

"It's dangerous- especially after what happened tonight- what if they come looking for you? What if they want revenge?"

Lovino rolled his eyes. "I'll be fine," he said in a slightly exasperated tone.

"At least let me walk you back," Antonio pleaded.

"No way."

"Couldn't you just wait till morning?"

"And spend the night here with you?" Lovino scoffed.

"Yeah. Or else I won't lend you a sweatshirt."

Lovino sighed in disgust. "Fine," he said. "I'll spend the night. But I'm leaving in the morning, got it?"

"Yup! It doesn't look like my roommate's coming back tonight, you can borrow it if you want." Antonio said, pointing to the bunkbed opposite his.

"Sounds good," Lovino started to say, but the door swung open and Francis stumbled drunkenly in, his shirt half unbuttoned, and collapsed on his bed, fast asleep.

"...That's my roommate," Antonio introduced him. "His name's Francis. He's a good guy." Francis rolled over onto his back and sleepily stuck his hand down his pants, scratching his crotch. "..Really," Antonio finished, a little embarrassed for his friend. "He is."

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Looks like I'm sleeping on the floor."

"No, you don't have to- we can share my bed! I don't snore, I promise!"

Lovino raised an eyebrow. "I'd rather sleep on the floor."

"I can guarantee that my bed will be comfier than the floor- I even have an extra pillow somewhere! I'll go get it." Antonio swung open his closet door and dug through the small space, looking.

"Comfiness is not the issue. I'm sleeping on the floor and that's it." Lovino crossed his arms.

"Well, it's not fair if one of us has the bed and one of us is on the floor. If you're really that set on sleeping on the floor, I'll join you!"

"That's not- ugh. Fine. I'll share your bed if you really want," Lovino grumbled. He climbed up onto the bed and lay down. "So?" he asked, looking down at Antonio. "You joining me or not?"

"Aren't you going to take off your clothes?"

"What?" Lovino screeched, color flooding into his face. "Of course not! I was under the impression that we were going to sleep next to each other on the same bed, not sleep with each other!"

"I don't mean like that," Antonio attempted to placate Lovino. "I just thought it would be uncomfortable to sleep in your clothes. You can borrow some of mine if you want."

Lovino paused, as if thinking it over. "Fine," he finally gave in. "Give me your clothes." He hopped off the bed and Antonio fumbled around in his closet, looking for a clean pair of clothes. Finally he found some and thrust them at Lovino. Lovino haughtily nodded thanks, and then briskly stepped past Antonio and into the closet, closing the door behind him. Antonio knocked on the door.

"What are you doing?" he asked, confused.

"Changing."

"In the closet?"

"What does it look like?!" he could hear Lovino's irritated shout from behind the door. Thankfully the wood muffled most of the sound and Francis did not wake.

"But.. why?" Antonio waited for an answer, but nothing came. He pressed his ear to the door, in case he just couldn't hear, but the door slammed open, whacking him in the face.

Lovino stepped out, dressed in Antonio's clothes, which were too big for him. He had to hold the pants up around his waist to prevent them from falling down.

Antonio laughed awkwardly. "Why don't you just take off your pants?" he suggested, trying to cover his mouth with his hand, in case he accidentally offended Lovino.

"Like hell!" Lovino spat, furiously waddling past Antonio, practically drowning in the fabric.

"I'm sorry," Antonio giggled, "I guess I forgot how little you are. But seriously, you should take off your pants. The shirt will probably cover everything anyway, it's big even on me."

"No way." Lovino continued waddling, looking almost like a member of some gang whose pants were so ridiculously low they could barely walk.

"Watch out for Gato," Antonio started to say, just as Lovino tripped over the small turtle that was still roaming around on the floor of the dorm. Antonio reached down and snatched him up just in time so that he wasn't crushed, but Lovino tumbled to the ground and fell face down, his butt perched comically in the air. Antonio carefully put Gato back in his cage and then hurried over to help Lovino up, but he had already gotten to his feet and stepped out of the jeans. Antonio bit back a laugh and started to take his shirt off, but was interrupted by Lovino shrieking,

"W-W-What the fuck are you doing?!"

Antonio looked up. "I'm changing," he said.

Lovino turned his face away, but Antonio saw that his ears were red. "Go change in the closet," he commanded, facing the wall.

"Why?"

"Just do it!"

"Fine, fine, whatever," Antonio waved Lovino's words away and walked into the closet, coming back out a minute later.

"Hey Lovino?" he called, closing the closet door behind him, "Is it okay if I sleep with my shirt off? I have this stupid fear of getting strangled in my sleep and whenever I feel something around my neck I freak out."

"Well, you'll just have to-" Lovino turned around and then stopped, the color in his face rising. "..Not wear a shirt then. That's fine. That's- totally fine. Yes. Very. Excellent," he stuttered, until finally he managed to tear his eyes away. "Get into bed," he mumbled.

"Okay." A bit confused, Antonio climbed onto the bed and lay down next to Lovino, pulling the blankets up. He reached up and turned off the light switch, then settled down. He felt somehow at peace, lying on his back with Lovino, who was on his side, facing away from Antonio.

Antonio glanced sideways at Lovino. He could tell Lovino wasn't asleep, but he was too tired to respond to his sluggish thoughts, and he fell asleep quickly.

* * *

Antonio woke in the middle of the night from a dream. He felt something stir beside him and started, until he saw that it was just Lovino. He must have rolled over in the night, for he was now facing Antonio, so close Antonio could feel Lovino's breath on his skin. He could feel Lovino's hand pressed to his chest, and Antonio, not really knowing why, put his arm around Lovino. He felt Lovino sort of nuzzle up against him, and all that registered in Antonio's mind was how cute Lovino was when he was sleeping, before he, too, fell asleep.


	6. Pizza

When Antonio woke up again in the morning, Lovino wasn't there. There was a warm dent on his bed, and the blankets had been carefully tucked back over Antonio, but the space under Antonio's arm was empty. He sighed and sat up. Something fell from his chest to his legs. He looked down. A piece of paper, torn out of his notebook that he had left open lay on his right thigh. Scrawled across it, in messy handwriting, was a simple note: 'Thanks.'

Antonio stared at it for a moment, then hauled himself out of bed and got dressed, stuffing the note into his pocket. He checked the time: 9:27 am. He usually went to help out at the soup kitchen at 11 on Saturday mornings, but he figured he could go early this time, there was nothing else for him to do. He glanced over at Francis, who was still asleep, and grabbed his coat, threw it over his shoulders, and went out the door.

* * *

He went into the soup kitchen through the back entrance that the volunteers used, and hung up his coat next to all the others. As he made his way to the kitchen, he greeted people that he knew. The soup kitchen was run by his church, and though he wasn't very religious at all, he felt that coming and helping the homeless and hungry was just as good as kneeling and praying to a deity that he didn't really believe in anyway.

He pulled on his rubber gloves and apron and mask and got to his station, where he doled out food bubbling in large pots to hungry people. He looked up as he served a balding old man, to see how many people were there, and then he saw a face he recognized.

Lovino was standing in the middle of the line, his head down, chewing his lower lip, hands in his pockets. Taken by surprise, he gawked at the small figure amongst so many others.

The old man he was serving coughed and Antonio jerked back to attention and finished serving him. But as soon as the man left, he lifted his head once again to stare at Lovino.

Lovino hadn't seemed to have noticed him yet, thank god. Antonio was a little afraid of what would happen if he did.

"Hey, you gonna serve me or what?" the person in front of him snapped.

"Oh- right. Sorry," he said quickly, and grabbed his ladle and served the person. He glanced quickly over at Lovino, who apparently still hadn't seen him. But then Lovino scratched the back of his head, and yawned big and wide, and as his head tilted upwards, his eyes caught on Antonio's. He stopped and stared, as if dumbstruck, and then slowly the color rose in his face, until it was an angry red. He charged over to Antonio and yelled over the counter,

"What the fuck are you doing here?!"

"H-Helping out," Antonio stammered. "I help out here on Saturday and Sunday mornings."

The woman serving next to Antonio looked over and raised an eyebrow.

"Get back in line, pretty boy," she laughed. "You can wait your turn like everybody else."

_Pretty boy?_

"What are _you _doing here?" Antonio finally got the courage to ask. The color in Lovino's face deepened and he looked taken aback.

"I- I'm helping out! Like you!"

"Don't joke around now," the woman next to Lovino said. "You go get back in line and wait like you do every Saturday and Sunday." She shook her head. "Honestly," she snapped her gum, "What's gotten into you?"

Lovino looked from Antonio to the woman and back again. Finally he slunk back into line and resumed looking at the floor. Antonio couldn't see his face, but the tips of his ears were bright red.

When it was Antonio's turn to serve Lovino, he looked as if he was about to either throw up or die from embarrassment.

"I- I normally help out here," Lovino blurted, not looking at Antonio fiercely. "Really, I do. They just… mixed it up or something."

"Uh-huh." Antonio slopped oatmeal into the plastic bowl.

"Keep the line moving," the woman next to Antonio said, waving for Lovino to leave. After one final, desperate glance at Antonio, he quickly hurried away. As Antonio served the next person, he saw Lovino sit down, dejected, out of the corner of his eye. Finally someone else came to take his place, and he went over to Lovino and sat down next to him.

"Hey," he greeted Lovino, who was solemnly picking up oatmeal in the spoon, looking at it, then dropping it with a plop back into the bowl.

"Hey," Lovino muttered.

"You should probably eat that, it'll get cold," Antonio pointed out. Lovino didn't answer and Antonio scooted closer to him on his stool, placing a hand on Lovino's shoulder. "Aren't you hungry?" he asked.

"Of course I am," Lovino growled, shrugging Antonio off.

"Then why don't you eat?" Lovino still didn't answer, so Antonio took his spoon from him and scooped up a spoonful of oatmeal and held it to Lovino's lips. "Here comes the oatmeal train," he teased. "Choo choo." He poked Lovino's lips with the heaping spoon. He saw Lovino's lips curl into a snarl and in an instant Lovino had picked up the bowl of oatmeal and thrown it into Antonio's face.

"Why can't you just leave me alone?!" he screamed, at the top of his lungs. The room fell quiet.

Antonio could feel the oatmeal dripping down his face and neck and into his shirt, into his open mouth. Using the back of his hand, he wiped it away from his eyes and nose, but he could still feel the sticky wetness of it on his skin. Globs of oatmeal fell from his face and neck and chin and onto the floor, and Lovino watched it fall, and then in a second, Antonio saw panic register in Lovino's eyes as he dove to the floor, getting down on his hands and knees. He tried to scoop up the fallen oatmeal and shoved it into his mouth hungrily and, in desperation, even started licking the dirty floor.

Still stunned, Antonio just managed to bend down and pull Lovino up by the back of his shirt.

"Here," he said. "I'll take you out to lunch."

* * *

Lovino trudged along behind Antonio angrily, his head down and his head in his pockets. He hadn't yet apologized, but then again, Antonio hadn't really expected him to. He cleaned up in a public bathroom, although his shirt was still wet and little oat flakes were stuck to his skin and clothes.

"Is pizza alright with you?" Antonio asked.

"Yeah," Lovino mumbled. Antonio could tell he was embarrassed, both to be seen waiting in line for free food and for having reacted rashly. He wasn't mad with Lovino, although he figured he probably should be. But he couldn't find it in him to be mad, he just felt pity for Lovino and embarrassment also, for having seen Lovino somewhere he didn't want to be seen. Antonio opened the door for Lovino and he nodded thanks as he walked in. They shared a pizza between the two of them in silence. Everytime Antonio saw Lovino's eyes on him, he tried to give him a reassuring smile, to say that it was alright, that he wasn't mad, but Lovino would always just look down and continue eating, slowly, neatly, even though he must have been starving.

"I'm sorry about what happened," Antonio said, not really sure why he was apologizing. He scratched the back of his neck nervously. Lovino watched him, blank-faced.

"How's your face?" Antonio tried to change the subject. "You know, from last night."

Lovino reached a hand up and touched his cheek dazedly.

"Um. Okay, I guess. I think. I don't know."

"Here, let me see." Antonio leaned over the table, accidentally knocking over a glass of water with his elbow. It splashed all over Lovino, wetting his shirt to a dark charcoal color.

Antonio laughed. "See, now we're even," he chuckled. Lovino glared at him and Antonio could see his old spirit was back, that he was over his previous embarrassment. "But really," Antonio said, "Let me see your face to make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine," Lovino protested, tipping his chair back away from Antonio, but Antonio just leaned further onto the table, now practically laying on it as Lovino continued to tip his chair backwards. The cashier looked at them oddly but said nothing. Grinning, Antonio stretched his arms and fingers to their extent, trying to get to Lovino, but Lovino leaned yet further back, too far back, and the chair legs folded beneath him and he tumbled to the floor. Antonio peeled himself from the table in a hurry and went over to help Lovino up, but as soon as Lovino saw him, he started laughing helplessly.

"What?" Antonio asked, confused. "What is it?"

Still laughing, Lovino pointed to Antonio's shirt. Antonio looked down and saw that a slice of the pizza was stuck to his shirt, a little brown triangle on his chest. He started to laugh too, feeling them rise up in his body like he had swallowed bubbles.

"Come on," he said,still giggling a bit, holding out a hand for Lovino, "Why don't we go back to my place for a bit?"

* * *

"Here, borrow one of my shirts. I need to wash mine too, anyway." Antonio thrust a t-shirt at Lovino before taking his own off. The wet cloth stuck to his skin as he pulled it off, and there were still some stray oat flakes on his chest and stomach. Lovino, all of a sudden, found the shirt he was holding very interesting.

"Why don't you take yours off, too?" Antonio nodded toward Lovino.

"No, I'm okay, thanks," Lovino said with a hasty laugh.

"But you'll get cold!"

"I'm okay. I don't get cold."

"But you have goosebumps!" Antonio pointed out, looking at Lovino's thin arms. "See?" He walked over and grazed a finger up Lovino's forearm. Lovino shivered, looked away, and pulled his arm out of Antonio's reach quickly.

"I- I'm part chicken," he said.

Antonio laughed. "Pardon?"

"My.. uh, my great-great-great grandfather.. he, like.. uh.. fucked a chicken. And now all his descendents have chicken skin. It's just natural," Lovino said, punctuating his words with unease.

"Uh-huh. Sure. Hey," Antonio said, changing the subject as he grabbed another shirt and put it on, "What did you think of the pizza? It's my favorite pizza joint in town."

"It was… okay. By American standards," Lovino said huffily.

"Okay?! Just okay? It's the best pizza you can get in the state!"

"Just because you Americans," Lovino spat out the word 'Americans' as if it were a curse, "have low standards doesn't mean the rest of us have to."

"Don't act like you're better than us- Italians are terrible at driving!"

"What the fuck does that have to do with pizza?!"

"I don't know, it just seemed… the right thing to say." Antonio scratched his chin. "Maybe I was wrong."

"Maybe?" Lovino repeated sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Maybe. Well, you know- I've never had what you call 'real' pizza…" Antonio trailed off hopefully.

"You want me to make you pizza?"

"Pweeze?" Antonio batted his eyes, sticking out his lower lip like a child begging their mother for candy.

Lovino sighed. "You're hopeless."

"Is that a yes?"

Lovino thought for a moment. "Yes. But you'll owe me."

"Your wish is my command! There's a communal kitchen downstairs, and Francis has a bunch of cooking stuff." Antonio hurried over to Francis's closet and grabbed as much things as he could carry, opening the door with his foot. He tried to hold it open for Lovino with his foot, his one leg shaking, but he fell off balance, and, dropping his pots and pans and cooking things, grabbed onto the closest thing- a single curl sticking up in Lovino's mess of hair. Lovino gasped and sank to the ground, bringing Antonio down with him.

"Ow, sorry," Antonio apologized. "Did I hurt you?" He had fallen on top of Lovino, pinning him to the ground. Lovino moaned underneath him. Antonio felt something on his shoulders and back and then realized that it was Lovino's hands, scrabbling onto him desperately.

"L-Lovino?"

"Antoni- ah!" Lovino cried as Antonio moved his hand slightly on his curl.

"Shit, Lovi, are you okay?!"

"Mo- Move your hand," Lovino panted.

"Um. Okay," Antonio said, a little confused. He moved his hand up and down on Lovino's curl.

Lovino screamed, but not in pain- it sounded… different, somehow, as if he was screaming from extreme pleasure. It seemed oddly sexual and Antonio gulped, feeling his pants growing uncomfortably tight.

Antonio moved his hand again and he felt Lovino's whole body shudder underneath him, Lovino's back arching, unconsciously pressing himself against Antonio. Lovino's hands dug into Antonio, clinging to him desperately as if for dear life.

"No, no, don't," Antonio thought he heard Lovino moan, but he wasn't sure. He didn't really know what he was doing, but Lovino's body pressed up against his, Lovino's hands, Lovino's voice calling out in sweet intones made him just want more.

"Please," Lovino pleaded. Assuming he wanted more movement on his curl, Antonio moved his hand once more and Lovino cried out again, tears in his eyes.

"No- stop- Antonio, sto-" His words were cut off as an uncontrollable moan slipped through his lips.

"You want me to stop?"

"Yes!" Lovino gasped, and Antonio reluctantly slid his hand off of Lovino's curl. Lovino's whole body relaxed almost instantly, his hands sliding off of Antonio. He lay there, breathing heavily for a moment, then kicked Antonio off of him and ran out of the room.

* * *

Lovino eyed himself in the dorm bathroom mirror warily. His face was still red and his breathing was rapid, his chest rising and falling quickly. He groaned, embarrassed for letting Antonio see him like that. How could he go back in there again, after practically jizzing himself right in front of Antonio? He ran his hands through his sweaty hair, trying to calm his breathing. He splashed some cold water on his fevered face. It felt good and he stuck his head under the tap, feeling the water drip down his face and neck and into his shirt, down his back.

"Lovino?" Antonio's voice startled Lovino and in his attempts to straighten up, he hit his head on the metal faucet. He reached up and turned the tap off, feeling the water slow to a trickle and then into drops, one two three. Carefully he extricated himself from the sink basin and straightened up, pivoting on his heel to face Antonio.

"Yeah?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"You- you're all wet," Antonio said, feeling useless and tepid. But he couldn't stop himself from admiring Lovino's body- his chest, rising and falling in time to little puffs of air, his flat stomach, his nipples poking through his wet shirt that clung to his torso… god, he wanted Lovino, he wanted Lovino under him and screaming in that voice again, he wanted Lovino's hands holding onto him as they had before, he wanted Lovino so bad he was worried it would be evident to anyone, especially Lovino.

Lovino looked down at himself. "Yeah. I know," he said slowly, as if Antonio were an idiot, which was exactly how he was feeling like at the moment.

Antonio nodded, not knowing what to say.

Lovino looked as if he was waiting for Antonio to say something, but Antonio remained silent, hoping Lovino would take the initiative. Finally Lovino said,

"So… pizza?"

"Yes!" Antonio agreed enthusiastically, glad that Lovino had been able to handle the situation. "The kitchen's this way." He gathered up his cooking utensils and items and then led Lovino down the stairs, occasionally checking over his shoulder to make sure Lovino hadn't wandered off or gotten lost.

Happily Antonio set his cooking things on the table, his muscles tired. Lovino nosed through the foodstuffs Antonio had brought down with him, then opened all the cabinets and the communal fridge, searching for ingredients. He pulled out a choice few and then set to work, wiping down the dirty table before sprinkling it with flour. He made and kneaded dough in a chipped bowl, then dumped it onto the flour, pounding and shaping and spreading it with his steady hands. Lovino seemed to be calmer, more at ease when he was cooking, as if he was rolling out his worries along with the dough. Finally he seemed satisfied with the pizza base he had made and picked it up and put it on a tray in the oven. He waited fifteen minutes, chewing his nails while Antonio watched silently, awed, and then pulled it out with his bare hands and putting it down on the table again. He sprinkled some more flour over it and then opened the canned of tinned tomatoes. He sniffed it, grimacing at the old, vinegary smell, then strained them. As they were already soft, he mashed them up in a small bowl, adding a couple herbs. When he was satisfied, he put a globule of the tomato sauce on the pizza and spread it around. He grabbed the assortment of cheeses that he had found and sniffed each one carefully, finally deciding on a slightly moldy mozzarella. He cut off the moldy bits and snatched up a grater, grating the soft cheese over the tomato sauce. He chopped up some wilted basil leaves and put that on also, and then put it back in the oven.

"Wow," Antonio said finally, feeling sort of like an intruder. "That was really cool."

Lovino harrumphed and crossed his arms, leaning on the counter next to the oven, tapping his foot impatiently. Slowly a great smell began to permeate through the room and Antonio could feel himself getting hungry again, even though he had eaten just an hour or so ago.

After what seemed like forever, Lovino opened the oven, pulling his sleeves down over his hands and quickly taking out the pizza and setting the tray on the table. He took a knife from the pile of random utensils and sliced it up, using the flat blade of the knife as a spatula to place slices of pizza on paper plates.

Eagerly Antonio got a piece of the pizza and bit into it, even though it burned the roof of his mouth.

"Wow," he said for the second time, still chewing, "This is really good! Really, really good- the best pizza I've ever had! I didn't know pizza could be this good."

"It's _okay," _Lovino sniffed contemptuously. "It would be a whole lot better if I had the proper ingredients."

"But it's so good!" Antonio protested, taking another slice. Lovino looked up at the clock.

"I should go," he said, getting to his feet.

Antonio looked up questioningly.

"Classes," Lovino explained.

"Right." Antonio looked down sullenly. He didn't want Lovino to leave and he felt selfish for thinking that, for making Lovino stay so long, but he couldn't help it. "See you."

"Yeah. Bye," Lovino said, but he was already out the door, his voice carrying down the hall.

That night, when Antonio lay in bed, alone, he thought of Lovino. He thought of Lovino, his face, reddened, his voice when he screaming, moaning, the way his body felt under his, his arms around him, and he touched himself, he couldn't help it. Quietly gasping, he heard himself whisper Lovino's name as he came, without meaning to. Afterward, he lay his head on his pillow, feeling guilty, dirty, so awful for thinking that way.

He wondered what would happen if his girlfriend found out.


	7. Just Friends

Antonio didn't go to the coffee shop on Monday. He felt so guilty for thinking of Lovino like… _that, _for not being true to his girlfriend, that he decided that he would punish himself by not going to the coffee shop at all that week, and would instead use the time to hang out with his girlfriend and remember why he was dating her, why he loved her, why she was his girlfriend.

He picked up his cellphone and dialed her number.

"Hello?" her familiar voice answered and Antonio could already remember why he loved her, her warm, buttery voice filling him from top to bottom.

"Hey, Ems," he said.

"Antonio? I thought you said you were going to be busy this week?"

"Yeah, I am, but I was missing you." True enough.

A pause. "That's so sweet," she said. He could hear the smile in her voice and started to smile, too.

"You wanna meet up tonight?" Antonio asked.

"Um… hold on, just a sec." He heard the sound of her phone being put down, and waited, knowing she was flipping through her schedule. "Yeah, that sounds good, my paper's not due till Wednesday."

"Great!" Antonio enthused. "Is 7 okay? I'll meet you outside your place."

"Sounds good, I'll see you then! But I have to go now, I have another class soon."

"That works. See you at seven!" Antonio flipped his phone shut and took a deep breath.

Yes. This was what he needed. He needed Ems, cute, sweet Emma Maes, the girl from Belgium whom he had grown up with and whom he had always loved to remind him of what he already had. No point in chasing after something- or someone- that wouldn't work out, and that he didn't (he tried to convince himself this) really want anyway. Lovino was nice, and yes, he was gorgeous, but he was a friend, a mere coffee barista. A really hot coffee barista, but one who also ate napkins, and oatmeal off the floor, and fell asleep in public bathrooms.

Emma, however, was funny, and smart, an agriculture major, and quite literally the girl next door. She was refined and sweet and understanding and accepted Antonio and his weird friends for who they were, but was also playful and fun to be around.

Antonio loved her for these things, but more, he loved her for her and who she was, and he loved her for loving him and everyone else. She didn't try to hide her feelings, she didn't have to put on a false face like Lovino, because she knew who she was and everyone else knew it, too. Antonio admired that in her. Growing up, she had always been a sort of role model for him, and still, even though they had been dating for years, he still found himself in awe that a girl like her had fallen for him.

He checked his watch. It was still just 5pm. He sighed and sat down, figuring he should at least get some work done before his date.

* * *

Lovino waited, in a full and bustling coffee shop, for Antonio, a cold mocha and stale pastry beside him.

"Hi, I'd like a.."

Lovino awoke from his spaced-out dreaming, smiled and nodded, and got to work. As the customer left and the next one in line came up, he slowly, almost regretfully, tipped the pastry and drink in the garbage.

* * *

Antonio exited Emma's car, his shirt buttons askew. She kissed him goodbye and fixed her dress, before promising to call him, and drived away. He walked up to his dorm slowly, tired, spotting the clock on the wall. The time read 11 pm. He yawned, covering his mouth with his hand.

When he got to his room, he just fell on top of the bed without even bothering to change first. In seconds, he was fast asleep.

* * *

Antonio woke up ten minutes after his first class was supposed to start, having forgot to set his alarm the previous night. With a jolt he bolted out of bed in the same clothes, gulping down Listerine before running out the door. As he jogged, backpack over his shoulder, to his class, his stomach growled. He hadn't eaten since Lovino's pizza yesterday afternoon and he was starving. He knew he had to get something quick or else he wouldn't be able to focus all class, and he slowed down a bit, looking around for a McDonald's or Dunkin' Donuts or someplace where he could get an espresso and a cheap meal in seconds, but he couldn't see any. He paused outside the coffee shop where Lovino worked. He had decided not to go in for a whole week, and he hesitated, not wanting to go back on his pact, but his stomach growled again and he could almost feel the time slipping away as he made up his mind. Finally he just barged in, the bell on the door ringing furiously. Lovino looked up from serving a customer, and as his face became visible, his eyes fixing on Antonio, all thoughts of Emma Maes, the pretty girl who he had been dating since high school, abandoned Antonio's mind.

"Where were you yesterday?" Lovino asked in that voice of his, that melodic voice that Antonio couldn't seem to get enough of, that voice which had just yesterday cried out and screamed Antonio's name…

"M-Me?" Antonio asked, a little stunned, pointing to himself for clarification.

"Who else?" Lovino said sarcastically, and Antonio reluctantly tore his eyes away from Lovino's lips, which looked so pink and warm, and his hands, which had held onto him so desperately yesterday, and his dark brown hair, which looked so soft and _god,_ Antonio could practically feel it balled up in his fist as he took Lovino from behind…

And then he realized that the customer had left and that him and Lovino were all alone in the coffee shop and five minutes had already passed while he had been gawking at Lovino and fuck, he had a boner. He hurried quickly to the counter, pressing his torso against it, hoping Lovino hadn't noticed.

Lovino looked at him impatiently. "Yesterday…?" he prompted.

"Oh, right. Yesterday. I was- uh- yesterday- I…" That's right. He should tell Lovino that he had a girlfriend. He didn't want to accidentally lead Lovino on… but then again, a guy like Lovino would never want him… but if he did- which he wouldn't- but Antonio had responsibilities, like being true to his girlfriend and- oh shit he had a girlfriend- they had gone on a date yesterday… had there been sex? Yes, Antonio affirmed in his memory, there had been sex. And he hadn't showered. And she had been wearing lipstick.

"Don't strain yourself," Lovino rolled his eyes.

Antonio pulled up his collar, hoping there were no suggestive red marks on his face or neck. And then he smelt it, on his hands as they passed his face- Emma's perfume. It was the one he had bought her, the fancy Dior one, that could be smelled by anyone within a foot of her.

Lovino stood across from him, tapping his fingers on the counter. He frowned and leaned forward, his face close to Antonio's.

"You got a little something there," he murmured distractedly, and Antonio could see in his peripheral vision Lovino's hand reach up and then he could feel it on his face- Lovino was so close, just a couple more inches, and perhaps Antonio might just slip on something that wasn't there and topple forward, and his lips might just happen to fall on Lovino's- it wasn't cheating, it was just an accident, and maybe if he just got over with it and kissed Lovino, the thoughts about Lovino might stop…

And then Lovino leaned backward just as Antonio fell on purpose and Antonio did not tumble onto Lovino as he had planned, but instead onto the hard plastic counter.

Lovino looked at the hand he had just pulled away from Antonio's face. "You're sweating," he stated, not caring that Antonio was now holding his nose in agony. He held up his wet finger for Antonio to see, to prove his point.

"Yeah, I ran here," Antonio groaned, cupping his nose. "I was-" he glanced at the clock, "I am late to class."

"Then what the fuck are you doing here?!" Lovino yelled. Antonio stared, not sure what he had done to make Lovino angry.

"You got into a good university and you're standing here in a coffee shop, wasting your time, money, and education? Go to class!" Lovino gestured wildly, furious, and a stray arm knocked over a stack of paper cups. "Ah, fuck," he muttered, and bent over to pick them up. "Go to class!" he yelled once more, and it took all of Antonio's willpower to tear his gaze away from the seemingly heaven-sent sight in front of him and hurry out the door.

* * *

Antonio returned to the coffee shop that evening. He felt guilty about about abandoning his plans, but he _was _hungry and Lovino was beautiful and gorgeous and smart and funny and sexy, albeit a little cold.

But as he walked in at half past seven, the small shop was completely crowded, a long line of people waiting to get coffee. Antonio joined the back of the line, peering over the queuers' heads.

The line shortened and soon he found himself facing Lovino. "Medium mocha, two shots of espresso, for here, no pastry," he said wearily, placing a five-dollar bill on the counter. Lovino nodded curtly and snatched up the money before disappearing behind the coffee machines. Antonio went ahead and took a seat at an empty table and moments later Lovino arrived carrying a steaming cup of coffee. He took it from him without looking up, guilt racking his body when he thought of what he had done, thinking of Lovino, last night.

He stared into the depths of his coffee mournfully, seeing his face reflected in the dark surface. He picked up the cup and his face distorted and grew and stretched into something gross, something awful, as the liquid inside moved.

He felt as terrible as he looked. He had a girlfriend, and yet, earlier today, he had tried (unsuccessfully) to kiss Lovino. How disgusting he was. He lifted the cup to his lips. He didn't want to have to look at that side of him, the real side, reflected honestly in the coffee.

Lovino walked coolly past Antonio, his side brushing against Antonio's forearm. Antonio looked up instinctively, only to see Lovino nonchalantly place a napkin on the table before disappearing. Curious, Antonio picked it up and saw, scrawled across it in black ink,

"I'll close late tonight, around 10, if you're willing to wait."

And despite how bad he had been feeling just seconds before, he started to smile. He could be just friends with Lovino, right?


	8. Jenga

"So," Antonio joined Lovino, who was waiting outside the just-closed coffee shop. "What's up?"

Lovino looked confused. "The… sky?" he answered hesitantly, his eyes flicking upwards.

"What?"

"You- you asked… what's up…?" Lovino pointed at the sky warily.

Antonio laughed. "No, I meant, like- what's happening."

Lovino looked even more confused. "Israeli-Palestinian conflict?"

"No, no, I don't think you understand. What's going on?"

"Well… Russia just invaded Ukraine." Lovino gestured limply.

"Um, that's not.." Antonio held a hand to his forehead, thinking. "Haven't you learned that phrase yet?"

"I know 'how are you' and 'good day' and 'I'm fine' and I can answer basic questions about the state of affairs. Is that what you mean?"

"Do you… you have English books, right? Don't they have a 'social' chapter or something?"

"Yeah, but I skimmed that bit because I figured I wouldn't do much socializing anyway," Lovino answered.

Antonio laughed weakly. "That's a little sad." He wasn't sure what to say to this.

"Is it?" Lovino seemed a bit distant.

"But- But we're friends, right?" Antonio was a little worried that Lovino didn't regard him as such, after his recent disclosure about his lack of interest in being friends with anyone, let alone Antonio.

"Are we? I was under the impression that we were acquaintances who met barely a week ago, and yet you've made me come to your dorm, sleep in your bed, eat your bad American pizza, and just this morning you tried- unsuccessfully, might I add- to kiss me. So yeah, we might have been friends, but we're acquaintances now."

"W-Wait, I wasn't trying to- that was a mistake-" he stammered desperately, holding his hands out, almost pleadingly. Lovino narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to Antonio, backing him against the door of the coffee shop.

"Don't even try to fucking lie," he spat. "I can see right through you." He drew himself to his full height, getting closer, and even though he was considerably shorter than Antonio, he was menacing, full of wrath and venom and something else in his eyes that Antonio couldn't exactly place.

Lovino stared him down for what felt like an eternity, as Antonio felt sweat trickle down the side of his face and down his back, until finally he seemed satisfied.

"So," Lovino said nonchalantly, as if nothing had just happened. He took a step back. "Shall we go for a walk?"

"Huh?" Antonio blinked, confused. "I thought we're not friends anymore."

"We're not. We're _acquaintances, _until you can prove to me that you will be a trustworthy _friend _who won't try to make out with me."

"Ah.. okay," Antonio laughed faintly, scratching the back of his head.

"And once I have deemed you worthy, you may sign my friend contract, which says that you will be my friend and nothing else."

"I don't think friendships work like that, Lovi."

"Mr. Vargas, if you please. We are acquaintances at the moment, and you'll have to upgrade to double friend status if you're going to call me Lovi."

"I…" Antonio really didn't know what to say.

"Don't you want to be my friend?"

"I- I do, I just… aren't I already your friend?"

"No, you're my acquaintance," Lovino explained impatiently, as if teaching a hard concept to a slow-learning child. "Now," he straightened himself, adjusting his too-big sweatshirt as if it were a thousand-dollar Armani suit. "Shall we walk? On the way you can redeem yourself."

"Alright," Antonio agreed unsteadily. "Have you eaten dinner yet? We can go to my dorm and I can make you some ramen."

"That- that sounds good," Lovino said quickly, trying to disguise the hunger in his voice. They set off to Antonio's dorm building.

On the way, Antonio paused, looking at a poster advertising the university's art department.

"Pretty funny how they put up ads in their own campus," he laughed, pointing. Lovino ignored him but Antonio stayed, looking closer at the poster. "Wow," he enthused. "That's really good. Who did that?"

Lovino walked back to join him, looking at the painting shown in the poster. His face grew red and his mouth contorted in anger.

"I fucking _told _him not to publish that one!" he yelled, reaching up and tearing down the poster, ripping it into shreds. Antonio watched him, confused.

"You know the artist?"

"Yeah, he's my idiot brother."

"He's really good- can I see some of his other stuff? Does he have an exhibit or something?" Antonio asked eagerly.

"Uh… yeah, he does," Lovino said, looking slightly befallen. "I can take you to it, it's free."

"Great! Thank you so much! Can you take me there now?"

"If you want…" Lovino seemed almost reluctant, but Antonio was too excited to notice or even care. "It's this way."

In minutes Lovino had lead Antonio to the university student art centre, where they displayed art done by good pupils. Feliciano, Lovino's brother, had his own room full of sculptures, busts, and paintings. Wide eyed, Antonio entered the room, not sure which masterpiece to look at first. Lovino trailed behind him, taking his time, walking slowly, as if dreading something, watching the ground.

"Your brother's really amazing," Antonio gushed, staring up at a painting depicting Jesus and various other Christian imageries. "Are you guys religious?"

"I- I guess you could say that."

"Can I ask you something?" Antonio said, completely ignoring Lovino's answer, even cutting him off in the middle of it. "Why do all the men have such big…" he didn't finish the sentence, not wanting to say the word in a museum, surrounded by genius works of art.

"Such big dicks?" Antonio cringed a bit as Lovino said it. "Yeah, he's kinda…" this time Lovino trailed off awkwardly.

"Gay?" Antonio suggested mildly.

Lovino bit his lip, nodding.

"Is that you?" Antonio asked, gaping at a painting. It showed a young man, shirtless, his olive skin illuminated by the setting sun peeking behind rolling hills of crops, purple grapes and golden wheat behind him. He was crouching, wearing too-big baggy jeans that sagged around his waist and bunched around his ankles, only his bare, dirt-stained toes peeking out. He was staring blankly, almost sadly, into the distance, his expression… Antonio couldn't quite place it. His eyes, captured in flecks of paint, seemed to dance and move and show emotion, and it was unlike anything Antonio had seen before. He looked back at Lovino, trying to match him with the man in the painting. Lovino drew back, surprised, his face growing slightly pink as he watched Antonio's eyes moving, flicking across his whole body and face.

Antonio looked back at the painting, then at Lovino again.

"It _is _you!" he cried, excited. Lovino smiled weakly, holding his arms out limply as if to say, 'here I am.'

"Is that Italy behind you?" Antonio asked. Lovino nodded. Antonio looked back at the painting as he prepared his next query. "Did you guys own a farm or something?"

"No, we just worked at one. We picked grapes."

"For wine?" Lovino nodded. "Hey," Antonio started, getting an idea, "draw something for me."

"Huh?"

"Your brother's a good artist, I bet you are too!"

"No, no, not at all," Lovino began to say, but Antonio thrust a scrap of paper from his pocket and a pencil at Lovino. Reluctantly, Lovino took them, and started to scribble, using the wall as support. Antonio watched him as he worked, his brow furrowed, his tongue stuck out as he focused on his drawing. Finally he ceased to draw and stepped back, holding out the paper for Antonio. Antonio took it eagerly and looked down at it, grinning in expectation.

His grin faltered. It looked no better than a third-grader's scribbles, the lines jerky and disconnected, the shape boxy.

"It's… nice.." Antonio tried to smile at Lovino, but it came out as a grimace.

"I told you I was no good," Lovino mumbled, looking at his feet.

"No, no," Antonio insisted. "It's… nice." He couldn't think of a better thing to say and so he repeated his former words. He stuffed the paper in his pocket, not wanting to throw it away in front of Lovino. He didn't know what to do, so he just walked on to the next painting. It depicted a young man passed out over a table, an empty bottle of cheap wine in one hand. A glass that had once been full of wine had tipped over in the man's other hand, spreading wine across the table and dripping onto the floor.

Antonio laughed. "Is that you, too?" he pointed towards the sleeping man in the picture.

"Maybe," Lovino evaded the question.

"Hey, no judging here. It's ok if it is," Antonio said, laughing slightly, but Lovino just shrugged. Antonio looked back up at the painting, noticing for the first time that the man in the picture's face was wet, not with wine but with tears, his eyes red and puffy. He opened his mouth to ask Lovino something, but saw that Lovino had moved on to the next painting nonchalantly. Hastily he eased over to Lovino, deciding to ask him later.

"Your brother paints you a lot," Antonio commented.

"Suppose so."

"He must really look up to you," Antonio commented.

Lovino breathed a single, forced laugh. "I doubt it."

"No, really," Antonio pressed. "He sounds interesting. I'd like to meet him."

Lovino groaned. "You're hinting at something, aren't you?"

Antonio grinned, unashamed. "You got me."

Sighing, Lovino hunched over and thrust his hands in his pockets. "C'mon," he mumbled. "He should still be up at this time."

* * *

They arrived at a small dorm building, the one specifically set aside for the foreign exchange students. Lovino found the intercom and buzzed his brother's room number, and in a second, they could hear a high-pitched, wavering voice.

"Ludwig!" the voice cried. "Don't- not there- ah!"

"Feli!" Lovino screamed into the intercom, his face red with anger, fists trembling. "What the fuck- is that fucking German- hold on- are you-" after a couple of messy swears he gave up on English and started yelling at full volume into the intercom speaker in Italian. When he got no reply, he ran over to the doors, rattling them furiously, trying to get them opened. A student passing by heard the noise and opened the door for the two of them, and Lovino rushed in, almost knocking over the bewildered student.

"Sorry," Antonio apologized quickly, as he hurried after Lovino. Lovino plowed up the stairs, taking them two at a time, finally bursting into a long hallway and sprinting down it, stopping at a door. He pounded on the wood, the door shaking in it's hinges.

"Ludwig," the same voice yelled again, "I-It's gonna-"

Snarling, Lovino kicked down the door. A thick, burly blond man pulled a wooden block out of a pile of quivering blocks and the tower fell down.

"Aww, you beat me," Feliciano whined. "You're so good at Jenga!" He looked up. "Oh, Lovino! When did you get here?"

Lovino fell to his knees, breathing heavily. "You- fucking-" he wheezed. Laughing slightly, Antonio squatted down to Lovino, patting his back reassuringly.

"Well," the blond man said after a moment. He had a thick German accent, and for some reason it amused Antonio greatly. "I'm going to take a shower. Feliciano, do you want to join me?"

"Yes!" Feliciano started to say, but Lovino cut him off.

"No he fucking won't, you fucking potato bastard!" Lovino got up once more, standing in front of Feliciano protectively. The German stared at him, shocked.

"I thought you weren't allowed into this building anymore," he said.

Lovino flushed. "M-Minor details," he said hastily, and Antonio looked from him to the German to the small, lighter-haired man whom he took to be Feliciano, confused.

"Anyway," Lovino said quickly, turning to Feliciano and squatting down so he was at eye level with his brother once more. "Are you okay? Did he-" he glanced over his shoulder at the befuddled German, then back to his brother, "Did he touch your… your no-no carrot?"

Feliciano brightened. "Yeah, lots!" he said happily. Lovino let a sort of strangled cry and in an instant he was on the German, kicking and punching and biting, but it had no effect. The man seemed to be made of iron.

With difficulty, Antonio pulled him off the German, looking over at Feliciano.

"Nice to meet you," he gasped, as Lovino elbowed him in the chin, "I'm Antonio. Real big fan."

"Fucking bastard!" Lovino screamed, rabid.

"I'm gonna use the shower…" the German pointed to the hallway beyond the broken down door, a towel over his shoulder.

"Don't use all the hot water," Feliciano called over Lovino's shouts. "Sorry about my brother," he apologized, now talking to Antonio again.

"It's alright." Antonio winced as Lovino's heel collided with his shins.

"Grab his curl," Feliciano advised. Antonio looked at him doubtfully.

"I don't know… I shouldn't…" he hesitated, but Lovino's fist sank into his stomach and he made up his mind. Quickly he moved his hand away from where he had been holding Lovino around the stomach where he had been trying to subdue him, and grabbed onto Lovino's curl. Lovino's shriek faded into a low moan and he started to tumble, his legs weak. Antonio quickly grabbed him round the middle with one hand, his other hand still on Lovino's curl as he fell against Antonio limply.

"B-Bastard," Lovino spat, but it developed into a yelp as he started to slip and Antonio gripped both him and his curl tighter in his efforts to keep Lovino upright.

"I'm sorry," he apologized frantically, remembering how he had seen Lovino this mad only once before, and on that particular occasion he had cut a man's penis off.

Feliciano surveyed them disinterestedly. "I'm going to make some hot chocolate," he announced, and left, stepping over the broken-down door. Lovino snarled and elbowed Antonio in the stomach, producing a quiet 'oof' and left with no choice, Antonio started rubbing the curl lightly to further incapacitate Lovino.

"Let- me- go," Lovino hissed.

"Will you calm down?" Antonio whispered, his lips brushing against Lovino's ear lightly. Lovino started to nod, resulting in more friction on his curl. He cried out, losing his balance and starting to topple forward, bringing Antonio down on top of him. Quickly Antonio rolled off, releasing Lovino's curl.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It was the only way to stop you." He felt a weight on his stomach and looked up, only to see Lovino sitting on his belly.

"Wha-" he started to say, but was cut off as Lovino punched him in the face.

"You fucking _bastard!" _he screamed.

"I said I'm sorry!" Antonio wailed, holding his arms over his head to protect himself. "There's no reason to beat up innocent people!"

"Yes there is! He fucked my _brother!"_

"It's a perfectly natural thing to do, Lovino. Your brother's old enough to make his own decisions," Antonio tried to say, closing his eyes, wincing as Lovino beat into his arms.

"It's not natural!" Lovino yelled, his voice hoarse. Antonio felt a drop of something wet and warm on his face and opened his eyes, only to see that Lovino was crying, fat dollops of salty water spilling down his cheeks and onto Antonio.

"They're- they're-" Lovino choked, his lip trembling. "They're f-f-" He stuttered, unable to say it.

Antonio's expression hardened. "A faggot? You're going to call your own brother a faggot?"

He heard a sigh from behind him and averted his eyes for a second, to see Feliciano leaning against the wall, sipping a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

"He's been like this ever since Roma kicked him out," he said. Antonio felt Lovino's body shudder on top of him.

"No," Lovino muttered, throwing one arm over his face to cover it, his eyes and nose hidden in the crook of his elbow, the other hand on Antonio's chest, fingers curling into Antonio's skin.

"K-Kicked him out?" Antonio repeated, incredulously. Feliciano said nothing, merely sipped his drink. Antonio looked back at the sobbing man on top of him, thinking about Lovino, his hesitations, his fear of the word he had tried to say, and then he realized.

"No," he said, disbelieving at first. Lovino let out a little strangled cry, tears wetting Antonio's face and neck, his fingers clawed.

_"__No!"_ Lovino howled.

"He is..?" Antonio looked at Feliciano for confirmation, getting the tiniest smirk in response. He swore he saw Feliciano wink at him, but he couldn't be sure.

"No," Lovino sobbed again. "I'm not- I swear I'm not. Please.. don't-" And in that moment, as Lovino protested in vain, Antonio could feel his heart break.

"C'mere," he muttered, sitting up, forcing Lovino off, and leaning against Feliciano's bed. He pulled Lovino back onto his lap, Lovino facing sideways, the side of his head against Antonio's warm chest. Antonio wrapped one arm around Lovino's shaking shoulders, the other hand stroked his hair gently.

He heard the floorboards creak and knew Feliciano was leaving again, and he appreciated that gesture.

"It's okay," he whispered, pressing his lips to Lovino's fevered head, his thumb rubbing comforting circles into Lovino's shoulder.

"No," Lovino said thickly, his face buried in Antonio's chest.

"Do you want me to let go?" Antonio asked quietly.

"N-No," Lovino sniffed, starting to cry harder.

"Okay." Antonio kissed the top of Lovino's head lightly again, not sexually or romantically; it was the sort of gesture a doting parent might give their child. He drank in the scent of Lovino- he smelled clean, fresh, a little bit like strawberries… and there was something else, a warm, earthy scent, like damp soil after a rainfall.

"It's okay to be who you are," he said after a moment, hoping it would make Lovino feel better, but he only cried harder, hiding his face in his hands.

"But I don't- I don't want to be who I am!" Lovino cried, shaking his head, his hair flopping around under Antonio's hand, tears and snot smearing across Antonio's shirt.

"Why would you say that?" Antonio asked softly. "You're a great person. I'm very lucky to have met you."

"I'm not-" Lovino gulped, trying to stop his tears, but it only made his crying more fervent, "I don't- shouldn't-" He couldn't finish the sentence, dissolving into more tears.

Antonio really didn't know what to say to this. Even with all his preparation, his tests, his A-levels and O-levels, now that he was faced with a real situation where he had to help someone solve their problems and comfort them, he was way out of his depth. He wondered, as he held the crying young man in his arms, what all his work had really amounted to, if all his studying and quiz sheets and flash cards were for naught. In the classroom, they never talked about what to do when something like this happened; the closest they had ever come to anything of this topic in class discussion was to hand the person tissues and sit there awkwardly until they had regained their composure, but obviously that wouldn't do much good in this situation.

So instead he called upon the tactics his mother had always employed when he was a little boy, and started to sing:

_"__Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly. All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise."_

To his surprise and relief, Lovino started to calm down bit by bit, wiping his face on his sleeve and, encouraged, Antonio sang more. By the time he had finished the song, Lovino had more or less stopped crying, little gasping sobs still erupting from his cracked lips every few seconds or so.

"How you doing?" Antonio whispered. He had a strange notion that Lovino was delicate, like blown glass, and if he spoke too loud Lovino would crack into millions of tiny pieces and Antonio would never be able to put him back together again. Lovino didn't answer.

"I'm sorry." Antonio spoke again, at a loss of what to say. He felt Lovino's whole body stiffen under him and in an instant Lovino had shoved Antonio off of him, knocking him against the wooden bed and he ran out of the room.

Antonio was too stunned to move, or even follow.

The blond German walked back into the room, a towel around his shoulders and a toothbrush sticking out the side of his mouth.

"Can you tell your friend he owes us $400 for the door?" he said tiredly, the toothbrush jiggling as he spoke.

"Y-Yeah," Antonio lied, knowing he wouldn't tell Lovino. He didn't want to place that extra stress on him; he had seen Lovino eat napkins and stand in line for free food, wearing the same ratty clothes day after day, and knew there was no way he could afford even a quarter of that cost.

"I'll tell him," he said, making up his mind to scrape together the sum from his savings or budget. It was the least he could do.

"Well," he said, forcing a smile, the events of that night weighing upon him so heavily it felt almost as if it were he who had been cast away by his own family, "I'll be off then. Good night."

* * *

Lovino wasn't at the shop the next day, instead a cheerful person of indeterminate gender with short blonde hair served Antonio. Sadly he stirred his coffee around and around sullenly, even though the sugar had long since dissolved.

It just wasn't the same without Lovino.


	9. Burns

"Hey." Antonio stepped into the coffee shop two mornings later, yawning. He was a little nervous after Lovino had shoved him that one night, worrying that he was mad at him, though he wasn't sure why. These worries had only been cemented by Lovino's absence from the coffee shop three days ago, and since he hadn't gone to the shop, even going as far as taking a longer route to school so that he didn't have to pass by it and think about Lovino and how he had wept in Antonio's arms just four nights ago, how small and tiny he had seemed, how sad he really must be behind that stone mask of disdain and indifference.

He received no answer to his greeting and looked up, afraid that it was a sign of Lovino's anger, but Lovino was just on the phone, gabbling in Italian. Even at the other end of the room, Antonio could hear a man's voice yelling through the end, as Lovino winced, holding the phone away from his ear. He had a death grip on the phone, his knuckles white, and Antonio had a strong suspicion the man on the other end of the line was Lovino's grandfather. A gleam of light caught his eye and he noticed that Lovino's other hand was twirling and twisting a small golden cross around his neck, wrapping and unwrapping the chain around his finger.

"Per favore," Lovino whispered into the receiver, and it was close enough to Spanish that Antonio could understand he was saying please. The line clicked off as the person who Antonio took to be Lovino's homophobic grandfather hung up on Lovino.

Lovino swore at the top of his lungs in Italian, slamming the phone down onto its holder angrily.

"You alright?" Antonio asked warily, approaching the counter.

"Do I look fucking alright?" Lovino demanded, leaning over the counter to glare at Antonio.

Antonio decided not to answer.

Lovino stared down Antonio for a minute longer, daring him to speak, before relenting and changing his posture upright once again, running a hand through his hair tiredly. He took a deep breath before turning around to unlock the cabinet containing the flavored syrups.

"Was that your grandfather?" Antonio asked.

"No, it was my fairy godmother," Lovino shot back, not turning.

"I see." Antonio laughed weakly. He watched Lovino for a moment before saying, "So, do you want to talk about the other night?"

"What is there to talk about?"

"Well, you know… the whole 'gay' thing, I guess." Antonio mumbled.

"I don't know what you mean," Lovino said coolly.

"You- you're gay, and you were crying and shit, and you broke a door…?" Antonio trailed off questioningly, wondering if he was the only one who recalled this, if it was all just a dream.

"I don't recall such a thing ever occurring."

"A-Are you just going to pretend it didn't happen?" Antonio said, realizing what Lovino was playing at.

Lovino looked over his shoulder. "Pretend what happened?

"If you just bottle it all up, it makes it harder. You should talk about it!" Antonio insisted.

"Talk about what?"

Antonio sighed, giving up. "Whatever," he said. "I can't force you to do anything."

Lovino finished his work and turned back around, placing his palms on the counter and looking down at his garbled reflection in the plastic surface.

"You gonna order or not?" Lovino barked. Antonio couldn't seem to look him in the eyes without remembering the feeling of Lovino quaking with sobs against his chest, so he instead focused on the dark circles under his eyes, his nose, his lip with the skin on it torn from Lovino chewing on it so much as a nervous habit.

"Right, sorry. Small mocha-"

"For here, two shots of espresso, and a tomato and mozzarella pastry?" Lovino finished, smiling slightly.

"You remembered!" Antonio felt something inside his stomach rise and he realized it was okay, that nothing had changed between them. Because if nothing had happened, which it would be most comfortable for both of them to pretend, he thought, then nothing could have changed, right?

"Of course I remember, you come in here almost every fucking day." Lovino's voice floated up from behind the coffee machines with which he was working.

Antonio chuckled. "Yeah, I suppose I do." He leaned over the counter, watching Lovino as he worked. His slim fingers hopped around the fancy machine, pulling and turning dials and levers. Antonio noticed that when Lovino was concentrating on something, his brow furrowed in the slightest, cutest way, his bottom lip stuck out in a minute pout.

"You're cute when you're busy," Antonio observed. He saw Lovino flush, his deft fingers suddenly clumsy, and realized he had said it aloud.

"Shut up," Lovino mumbled, his face red as he took out the boiler, preparing to pour the steaming coffee in a paper cup.

"Ooh, are you flustered?" Antonio teased, noticing Lovino's trepidation. "Did I fluster you?" He chuckled.

"You shut up right no-" Lovino swiveled on his heel angrily, forgetting about the coffee he was holding, and in an instant the top of it flew off and, surprised, he dropped it, the still bubbling, boiling liquid splashing all over his torso, neck, and upper legs…

* * *

"You really should take off your clothes," Antonio commented, looking sideways at Lovino, who was sitting beside him, sopping wet. A small puddle of coffee had gathered beneath him and on his skin, coating the raw burnt red, was a thin film of brownish stickiness.

"Fuck no," Lovino replied irritably.

"But you're all burnt- doesn't it hurt?"

"Of course it does!"

"Then take off your clothes and put cold water on it," Antonio advised.

"I'm _not _taking off my clothes," said Lovino indignantly. "Besides, it doesn't hurt _that _much."

"Really?" Antonio reached out and touched a patch of red on Lovino's forearm with the tips of his fingers. It was barely any contact, but Lovino cried out and jerked his arm away instinctively.

"Yeah. I'm going to take you to the hospital now," Antonio said. Lovino shook his head so fast he banged his head on the wall and reached an arm up to it, wincing.

"Don't," he said.

"Why not?"

"Can't afford it. And also…" Lovino stopped his sentence prematurely, looking away.

"Also…?" Antonio prompted.

"I.." Lovino bit his lip, "I may have overstayed my traveler's Visa."

Antonio groaned, holding a hand to his forehead. "Why didn't you just apply for a green card or something?"

"I didn't think I'd be here for that long!" Lovino insisted. "Plus, it costs money, and right now most of it is going to my grandfather."

"W-What?" Antonio asked, caught off guard. "Why're you giving your granddad money?"

"Fuck," Lovino muttered, defeated. Impatient, Antonio coughed loudly, requesting an answer.

"Well," Lovino began, his eyes shifting away guiltily, "He's old. Really old. And sick, and it's my fault he's sick, so… I've been sending him money."

"Wait," Antonio interrupted. "How is your grandfather getting sick your fault?"

Lovino chewed his lip, unwilling to answer.

"Answer me," Antonio demanded angrily.

"I.." Lovino looked down at his hands. "Well… Roma- he said that God was angry with me, and that he'd punish us so that I would see the impact of my sins."

"Holy shit," Antonio said, starting to laugh out of sheer bewilderment. "Your granddad is crazy!"

"Yeah, well, then it actually happened! So he's not so crazy! And- and-" Lovino said desperately, grabbing at loose straws, "And he's the last person in Italy who can speak Latin fluently!"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Antonio snorted.

"Well, he's not as bad as you make him out to be." Lovino crossed his arms, but when his burnt skin touched other skin, he winced in, glancing at Antonio briefly.

"Just because he can speak Latin doesn't change the fact that he's a religious nutcase," Antonio argued. "And a single person can't _cause _someone to be sick. It's just coincidences!"

"It's not! He got so mad at me when Feli told that he passed out, and they found out he had DVT at the emergency room!"

"DVT?"

"Deep vein thro- throm… bisis? No, bosis, definitely bosis- deep throat thrombosis. It's like," Lovino gestured uselessly, "blood clots. But bits of it can fall off and go to the lungs and clot there, which is life threatening."

"I- I don't know," Lovino concluded. "I'm not smart enough to understand it completely, but it's bad."

"Don't say you're not smart," appeased Antonio. "You are."

"I dropped out of high school; I'm not good at anything- the only reason they gave me this job was they heard about my brother and hoped that I would be similarly talented." Lovino stared at the tops of his knees, pulled to his chest, his arms wrapped around them. He squeezed his legs tighter, an air of solemnity surrounding him.

"They were wrong," Lovino finished limply.

"Just because you have bad grades doesn't mean you're stupid- maybe you were just too smart for the school! And you are talented, the coffee is great!"

"It's the machines that do all the work. I just press buttons and pour in water. I'm effectively useless. If I die, someone will replace me. That's all I am."

"No, no- you're so much more than that! I-" Antonio ran a hand through his hair, "I just- I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

"And how do you see me?" Lovino mumbled. "Just some weird faggot patient to be fixed? An extra credit project for your psychology major?"

"No!" Antonio said so fervently it surprised even him. "You're not like that- not like that at all… you're my best friend, Lovi."

"Y-Your friend?" Lovino repeated slowly, almost disbelievingly, raising his head an inch to look up at Antonio through heavily lidded eyelashes, "I've never… had a friend before."

"Wait, seriously? N-Not that there's anything wrong with that," he added quickly, seeing Lovino's expression. "I'm just surprised.. is all."

Lovino _tsk_ed and rested his chin on the tops of his soaked knees.

The wet clothes clung to Lovino's skin and though Antonio tried to not look for Lovino's sake, he couldn't help but noticing, before averting his eyes, that Lovino was very skinny, in an unhealthy, starved way.

"If you're giving most of your money to your granddad," he said slowly, eyeing Lovino's ribs, "How are you making a living here?"

Lovino shrugged, leaning his head against the corner where the walls met, so that one side of his face was pressed to a wall and the back of his head rested against the adjacent wall.

"I get by," he mumbled finally.

"Really? Do you?" Antonio questioned him. "How do you buy food? How do you pay rent?"

"Like I said, I get by," Lovino said, his voice quiet but angry. "And it's really none of your business."

"But the cheapest rent in town is probably, like, $150 per month- how can you afford that?"

"I.. I live in a tenement building," Lovino said quickly.

Antonio frowned. "A tenement building? I don't think we have any of those in this town."

"Yeah, there's a couple," Lovino said, his voice full of fake bravado. "It's kind of.. out of the way."

"Behind the adult video store, right? That's what you said, the first time."

"R-Right. Yeah," Lovino stammered. "Regular tenement funster, that's me."

"Tenement funster?"

"It's a Queen song, idiot."

Antonio blinked. "You like Queen?"

"Of course I do, everyone likes Queen," Lovino said irritably, placing his palms on his knees and using them as leverage to hoist himself back up, "I need to get back to work."

"Can you?"

"It doesn't matter whether I can or can't, I _need _to." Reluctantly Antonio nodded.

"Are you sure you're feeling up to it though? I mean, aren't you in pain?" he queried.

"'S'not too bad," Lovino grumbled, and then looked down at himself. "I'm all brown," he complained, rubbing two fingers together, acclimating himself to the sticky sweetness.

"Instant tan," Antonio joked. "You could sell that."

Lovino glared at him over his shoulder as he went to the sink, wetting his hands and rubbing his arms, streaks of deep brown streaking away to reveal tanned olive skin tainted with splotches of red where it had burned him.

"I could help," Antonio offered.

"No," Lovino said blandly, not missing a beat. And then, "Don't you have class?"

"Well, yeah," Antonio admitted, rubbing the back of his neck abashedly, "But I'd rather stay here with you."

"You got into a good college, and you're wasting your education and money to sit around and drink coffee?" Antonio saw with alarm the tips of Lovino's ears grow red with anger, and he felt a prickling sensation at the back of his neck.

"I- yeah- I suppose you're right," he laughed nervously, taking a step backwards carefully. "Maybe I will go, then."

"You owe me a new outfit."

"Huh?"

"It's your fault I spilt coffee all over myself. You owe me new clothes. Size 7 women's or size 8 men's." Lovino rubbed furiously at his arms even though they were already mostly clean by now.

"You know what size you are in women's clothing?" Antonio couldn't suppress a laugh. Lovino stiffened, his face flushing with embarrassment as he realized his slipup.

"No- I can explain- it's not-" he stammered, turning around, but Antonio had already fled the room, chuckling.

"Wait!" Lovino ran out of the bathroom as well, the door swinging behind him and then coming back around on its hinges, whacking Lovino in the butt and causing him to stumble forward a few steps. When he looked up, Antonio was already gone.

* * *

That night, Antonio didn't return to the coffee shop. Instead, he carefully made his way through the dark alley that Lovino often used as a shortcut to his side of town and walked down the small, filthy road until he could see the neon sign of the adult video store. A little afraid, he walked around to the back and looked at the building in front of him.

Was it the right place? It seemed so unlikely, yet it fit. Quickly he looked right and left and around him, scanning for some other building that looked like a tenement building or even just an apartment block, but there was nothing save a 24-hour diner.

Slowly he turned his eyes back to the ugly, squat building in front of him and read the sign for the second time, scarcely believing his eyes as they ran over the letters:

'Homeless Shelter'


	10. The Shelter

Antonio walked into the coffee shop the next day and threw a parcel down on the counter, startling Lovino.

"Here's a new set of clothes," he said, and then added, grinning, "Plus a skirt and two pairs of lacy panties."

"N-No, it's not- not like that!" Lovino stuttered, red-faced. "Feli just needed a girl to paint, and he didn't know any- don't look at me like that, he promised me he'd buy me fresh tomatoes!"

"So you dressed in drag for tomatoes?" Antonio chuckled.

"No! Well, yes- but-"

"It's fine," Antonio waved his hand lazily, still giggling a bit. "I'm teasing you."

"I- I knew that! I was just… playing along!" Under Antonio's sarcastic gaze, Lovino quailed. "Just give me the damn package," he grumbled and grabbed it, tugging it from Antonio's hands. As Lovino took the parcel, Antonio leaned forward and asked quietly so that no other customers could hear,

"Are you homeless?"

Lovino started, his face flooding with color as he took a hasty step back.

"W-Wha..?" he stammered. "Of course not! I live in a tene-"

"Yeah, about that," Antonio said. "I researched it, and there are no tenement buildings in this town, or any of the surrounding towns or districts, and there never were. So I went and checked out behind the adult video store, like you said, and there was nothing there except for a homeless shelter."

"You had no right!"

"Maybe not." Antonio shrugged. "But I wanted to know."

"You fucking _asshole! _I can't believe you did that!"

"Why didn't you tell me? I could have helped-"

"Because it's none of your _fucking business _where I sleep! It has _nothing _to do with you! Why would you do that- I-" Lovino brought his hands to his head, grabbing onto his hair as he began to pace in circles.

"Were you embarrassed? Because I do-" Antonio tried to say, but Lovino stopped dead and swiveled around to face Antonio, slamming his hands palm down on the counter with a large thud, leaning forward so close to him that their noses were almost touching.

"Don't tell Feli," he said, quiet but deathly serious, almost menacing. "He'll freak."

"I- I won't, I promise!" Antonio insisted, taking a step backwards and holding up his hands defensively. Lovino's lip curled as he stared Antonio down for what seemed like years until he finally growled,

"Get out."

Antonio didn't need to be warned twice.

* * *

Lovino finished stacking the chairs on the tables and sighed, wiping his brow before grabbing the mop and starting to clean the floor. He heard a knock on the window and looked up, expecting some poor bird had flown into the glass, but instead he saw Antonio standing outside, waving slightly, a guilty expression across his face. Lovino let out a scornful breath and returned to his cleaning, turning his back on Antonio, but in a couple seconds another knock resounded and Lovino, annoyed, turned back around.

Antonio was holding up a piece of paper torn from his notebook, pressed against the glass. Scrawled across it in big black letters was the word 'SORRY.' Lovino scoffed and once more looked away, but he had barely touched the mop to the floor when he heard another knock.

'CAN WE TALK?' the paper read. Lovino raised his middle finger in response and returned to his mopping. The knocking continued, getting more and more frequent and frenzied, and though Lovino tried his best to ignore it, after a while it became so insistent that he dropped his mop and marched over to the door, unlocking it and allowing Antonio in.

"What," he said in a still tone, picking up his mop again.

"Sorry about earlier," Antonio apologized. "I shouldn't have pried."

"No, you shouldn't."

"But I still don't understand something- why didn't you just stay with Feliciano in his dorm?"

Lovino sighed, straightening his back with a crack and righting his mop, resting an arm on the top. "I did, for a while," he explained wearily. "But after around a month, I got found out and was kicked out. I'm not allowed back in the dorms."

"That sucks." Antonio thrust his hands in his pockets uncomfortably, not sure what to do or say. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," Lovino mumbled, starting to mop again, painting the dirty floor with white streaks of water and suds. "Besides, I was getting sick of staying there anyway. Feli and his stupid roommate kept flirting and… other things. So I wandered around for a bit until I found the shelter, and I've been there since."

"When you're done, can you take me there? To the shelter? I want to see what it's like."

"Why should I?" Lovino thrust the mop forward so hard he fell off balance and nearly slipped on the wet floor. His face red, he quickly righted himself.

"If you don't, I'll probably go check it out by myself, and it would make more sense for us to go together," Antonio explained.

Lovino scowled. "Fine," he said, though obviously not happy about it. "But this doesn't mean I forgive you."

"Naturally. How are your burns?"

Lovino squinted at him, trying to suss out any ulterior meanings to the statement, but found nothing.

"Fine," he mumbled.

"That's good," said Antonio cheerily. "Does it still hurt?"

Keeping his face turned away, Lovino answered, "Not really."

"Good," Antonio said cordially. Despite Lovino's anger, he was for some reason in a good mood, perhaps for finally deciphering one of the enigmas that surrounded Lovino's wane existence.

Lovino finished up cleaning as Antonio watched silently, then finally tossed his mop aside, threw on a sweatshirt, and led Antonio outside, locking up the shop.

Antonio followed Lovino through the alley, checking all around him as he emerged, making sure no one had followed him or Lovino. He was still a little paranoid after Lovino had gotten attacked that one night.

"You coming or not?" Lovino called over his shoulder as he trudged forward. Antonio quickly hurried to his side.

"Right, sorry," he apologized, watching the ground as he walked, making a roster of all the garbage he saw by the side of the road. Condoms: 3, 2 of which were used; soda cans: 13; flyers, pamphlets, and other handouts: 18; gum wrappers/gum: 14; beer bottles/cans: 21; plastic sandwich bags, one of which was filled with a dubious white powder: 16; two water bottles filled with some unidentified liquid that looked awfully like human piss; newspapers: 5...

Finally Lovino stopped and Antonio did too, lifting his head to see Lovino walk into the shelter ahead of him. Lovino stopped at a desk and signed something, then leaned forward and opened his mouth. The person at the desk brought a small device to Lovino's open mouth and Antonio realized it was a Breathalyzer. Then the person shone a light into Lovino's eyes, probably to check if he was high or not. Antonio came over slowly to Lovino, opening his mouth to speak, but in an instant the person at the desk had grabbed his jaw and brought it forward, using the Breathalyzer. Antonio felt a painful light in his eyes and then it was done. He stepped back thankfully, preparing to leave, but the person at the desk asked harshly,

"Any criminal record?"

"N-No," Antonio stammered. "Once when I was eight I accidentally broke a window with my baseball…" Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lovino roll his eyes.

"Pedophilia? Sexual assault?"

"No- I would never-!"

"He's safe," Lovino groaned, annoyed. "Just a guest." He grabbed Antonio's arm and pulled him away.

"No sex in the shelter!" the person called after them.

"As if!" Lovino shouted back, tugging Antonio around a corner until the person was out of earshot. He lead Antonio into a long, narrow room that Antonio would have taken for a hallway if it wasn't for the rows and rows of bunk beds lining each wall. There were as much as four beds stacked onto each other, reaching up to the ceiling, and Antonio stood, gazing at the sight in awe, but Lovino continued tugging him and he lurched forward, stumbling after Lovino. A strong smell of mildew permeated through the whole place, and the paint on the walls was peeling off, the wood underneath rotting from the damp. Buckets and bowls were placed higgledy-piggledy all across the floor, halfway full, and if you waited you could hear the drops of water into the buckets.

Lovino brought him to a stack of bunkbeds and climbed up onto his, the second one, laying down flat on his back, arms behind his head because it wasn't high enough to sit on properly. Antonio joined him, a little wary, glancing at Lovino before laying down next to him.

There was a little shelf above where Lovino's feet would be, and on it was a small pile of neatly folded clothes, a simple cross leaning against the back of the bed, and a stack of English language books. Taped to the bottom of the bed on top of Lovino were lots and lots of photographs: A younger Lovino, Feliciano, and an old man whom Antonio took to be their grandfather; rows upon rows upon rows of grapes; postcards in Italian signed by Feliciano, writing side facing Lovino, print-outs of his brother's art, and a more recent photo of a sickly old man, the same one who seemed to be Lovino's grandfather.

"What's this?" Antonio asked, his arm lifting up and touching a thin piece of paper that looked as if it had been torn out of a book. Squinting at it, he realized that it was a page from the Bible, and it was similar enough to Spanish that he could sort of decipher it.

It was the familiar 'thou shall not lie with a man as you would a woman, for it is despicable' bit, and he frowned.

"You shouldn't have this," he commented. Lovino turned his head so Antonio couldn't see his face.

"So what if I do?" he mumbled, his voice muffled because his face was buried in his arm.

"It's not healthy," Antonio said. "It's important to have a positive attitude towards your sexuality."

"I- I'm not gay!" Lovino spluttered loudly. "I like br- breastses and vaginas!" He looked faintly nauseous as he said this, his pallor slightly green.

Antonio laughed. "You just keep telling yourself that," he chuckled, patting the top of Lovino's head.

"Don't belittle me!" Lovino yelled.

"I just want you to see that there's nothing wrong with you."

"There is nothing wrong with me, because I'm _not gay!" _Lovino insisted.

"If you keep denying it, it'll hurt more."

"You can't deny something that doesn't exist to begin with!"

Antonio sighed. "Alright, Mr. Straight-Man." He lifted his torso a little bit and scratched his stomach, allowing his shirt to ride up a little bit, revealing his abs. He yawned, flexing, and then peeked at Lovino out of the corner of his eye, grinning as he saw Lovino gawk at him, his face bright red. He lay back down, laughing slightly as he saw Lovino realize what Antonio had done, his face growing even redder until he quickly rolled over onto his side, facing away from Antonio.

"Still feeling straight?" Antonio chuckled.

"I hate you," Lovino huffed angrily.

"Really? Because your face is awfully red," Antonio teased. He rolled over as well, his stomach pressed up against Lovino's back. He attempted to slip an arm over Lovino, but he swatted his hand away as if he already knew what Antonio was planning.

"You're breathing down my neck," Lovino complained, his ears red. "Get off."

"Oh. Okay." A little disappointed, Antonio backed off.

Lovino closed his eyes, relieved, and let himself relax. He could feel his heart practically thumping out of his chest and he wondered if Antonio could hear it too, the rhythm pulsing through his whole body. Yet even though he could no longer feel Antonio against him, sending heated electricity throughout his entire body, swirling in his stomach and chest until he felt almost ill with something he couldn't identify, his breathing and heart rate didn't slow- just Antonio being near him now was enough to make him feel like he was going crazy.

And Antonio knew now, he knew what Lovino was, and where he lived, or didn't live- he knew practically everything! And yet he was still here, inches away from Lovino, in his _bed, _for fuck's sake, looking up at the scraps of Lovino reflected in pictures and letters and paintings, practically seeing into Lovino, the good and the bad and the uncomfortable churning of emotions without names that stewed inside of him everytime he so much as caught a whiff of the mixed smells that spelled Antonio; the smell of crayons and freshly mowed grass and, for the strange reason that Lovino had never gotten the nerve to ask Antonio about, tomatoes.

"Lovi?" Antonio's voice startled Lovino and he took a quick sudden breath, feeling his heart leap and his shoulders jump in surprise. And god, Antonio's voice, so smooth and deep and comforting, and the way he said Lovino's name, with the lilting Spanish accent that softened the 'l' and 'o' just enticed Lovino to the point that he was practically hanging off Antonio's every stupid word, every bad joke, despite how much he hated himself for it. He loved when Antonio shortened his name to Lovi, how he lingered on the 'i' at the end a bit and let it last and mingle in the air. If anyone else had called him that, he would have bared his teeth and attacked, but when Antonio said it, Lovino could feel all his defenses melting away.

"Sorry, did I startle you?"

"N-No, it's alright." Why was he being so complacent, damn it? He had to say something to let Antonio know he wasn't freaking out at the mere thought that Antonio was less than a foot away from him.

"Bastard," he added quickly. Yes. That was better.

Antonio laughed and Lovino felt his stomach flip- what had he done? What was so funny? Was Antonio laughing at him? And why did he care so much?

"Stop laughing!" He hoped Antonio hadn't detected the little quiver in his voice. "What's so fucking funny? You're shaking the bed!"

"Sorry, you're just.." Antonio wiped a tear from his eye, "You're just really cute."

_Oh. _Lovino couldn't stop the little gasp that escaped his carefully guarded lips. He wondered if Antonio could hear his heart speed up as well, so much it almost hurt. He clutched his chest through his shirt, willing it to slow, to quiet, but of course there was no stopping now.

"You're kinda quiet tonight. Is something wrong?"

A note of panic rang through Lovino's whole body. Could Antonio tell? Could he see how much he was affecting Lovino, how he was causing Lovino's whole body and mind to stray from the carefully calculated path he had set for himself in order to get through life without feeling too much, without having to get close to anyone in the way he was now with Antonio?

"Lovi?" There he went again, with that stupid nickname- it was stupid, Lovino told himself, inane, and he absolutely _did not like it _when Antonio called him that, he did not feel his stomach jump into his goddamn throat whenever Antonio ended his name in that premature fashion that made his brain tick in the wrong direction and oh god Lovino could feel him- Antonio was touching his arm- lightly, barely enough to be felt by anyone else, but of course Lovino had to feel a wave of desire mixed with something else he couldn't place roll through his _entire fucking body…_

"Don't touch me." Lovino surprised even himself. He forced himself to continue, even though every inch of him was aching, yearning for more, for Antonio to call his name and touch him in places Lovino had never even touched himself…

"Don't touch me. Don't talk to me. Don't say my name. Don't stand close to me. Don't even fucking breathe near me!" Lovino could hear his voice raise in pitch and volume as he tried futilely to convince not only Antonio but also himself that he wasn't interested, that he didn't like Antonio in the slightest.

"Then I guess I'll go." Antonio unwillingly scooted himself off the bed and started to walk away. He paused, opening his mouth, but decided that if Lovino wanted him to go, he'd go.

Lovino's heart didn't slow down to its previous state until an hour after he had listened to Antonio's fading footsteps, relieved but yet also disappointed. He closed his eyes again, telling himself that this was for the best.

But then why didn't it feel like that?


	11. Dinner

Antonio paused, his finger hovering over the button. Finally he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and stabbed the button with all his might, only opening his eyes and exhaling once he heard the dialing tone.

"Hello? Toni? You there?" Emma's familiar voice poured out of the speaker and Antonio could feel himself relax, the words he had rehearsed so many times now seemed easy and insignificant.

"Hey. I'm here."

"Antonio? What's up? Did something happen?"

"No, nothing happened. I just want to see you. Can we meet tonight at 7?" he asked.

"Yeah, probably. Minelli's? We went there last time."

"Sounds good. See you then, I gotta go now."

"'Kay. Bye." She hung up.

* * *

"Hey, Ems," Antonio greeted his girlfriend at the door and she smiled back warmly. They sat down and perused the menu for a minute before Emma spoke up.

"So what did you need to talk about?" she asked, looking concerned. "Are you breaking up with me?"

"No!" Antonio said so quickly he surprised himself. "Of course not! I just- I need to tell you something."

"Okay," she said, straightening herself in her chair, steeling herself. "What is it?"

Antonio took a deep breath. "So I met this g-"

"You're cheating on me?!" she burst out, then clapped a hand over her mouth, embarrassed for her loudness.

"No- no, God no. Why would you even think that?!"

"I don't know," she said, quieting, "I'm sorry."

"No, no, _I'm _sorry," Antonio apologized, shaking his head. "I should have been clearer. I just wanted to tell you that I met this guy, this coffee barista- anyway, I've been spending a lot of time with him." He saw her slight confusion and realized his explanation had been less than satisfactory.

"I mean," he clarified, "I went to get coffee, and I met this new barista, and somehow we got into a conversation. He- He's cold, but he's really a nice guy, and he-"

"Let me guess," she said, smiling slightly, "He's got a lot of problems and you want to help him out."

"Exactly!" Antonio said, surprised. "How did you know?"

"Because you always do this," she laughed. "In high school you befriended that janitor- Mr. Davis, wasn't it- and helped him get back custody of his kids. Last year you met that drug addict and helped her through rehab. Even when you were twelve, you discovered that the turtles in the local pond were getting hunted and brought them all to your house but your mom didn't let you keep them, so you hid them under your bed, remember?"

"Oh yeah," Antonio grinned, starting to laugh as well. "I guess I'm a sucker for a sob story, huh?"

"You're too nice for your own good," Emma said, leaning back in her chair, a playful grin on her face. "That's what I keep telling you."

"You're probably right. Anyway, the reason I wanted to tell you this was so that you didn't get the wrong idea and think I was cheating on you or something. But it seems you already know the whole story," said Antonio.

"Yeah, I know the spiel. I've known you your whole life, how could I not?"

"You know me better than I know myself," Antonio admitted. "That's why I love you."

* * *

Antonio was caught up in such a frenzy of studying and reviewing notes that he didn't return until several days later, much to Lovino's chagrin.

"Where were you?" he demanded as the bell clanged against the closing door, signaling Antonio's tardy arrival.

"I'm sorry, I was just-" Antonio broke off, yawning. "-studying," he finished.

"I missed y-" Lovino cut himself off, his face turning slightly pink as he realized what he had almost said, and hurried to cover up his tracks, "I missed your business," he concluded lamely.

"Yeah, I know, I-" Antonio paused to yawn again, covering his gaping mouth with his hand. "Finals," he explained.

"Right."

"Anyway, can I have a mocha- three shots of espresso, please, I can't seem to stay awake, I-" Antonio struggled to suppress another yawn. He dug around in his pocket and brought out a crumpled five dollar bill and dropped it on the counter. Lovino gave him his change and then set to work on his coffee.

While Lovino's back was turned, Antonio slipped another ten dollar bill into the tip jar. Since he had learned that Lovino was mainly living off the tips, he had taken to leaving fives, tens, even twenties sometimes in the tip jar, hoping it would maybe take the edge off Lovino's perpetual hunger and maybe be able to buy him a coat as the winter temperatures started to drop even lower. He figured he could go without a few luxuries for a while. Lovino needed the money more than him.

Slowly Antonio unpacked his bag, placing his textbooks and notes on the table with a loud thump. He really didn't want to study, but he knew he had no choice. Lovino laid his coffee on the table, lingering a moment to peruse Antonio's notes and textbook. As Lovino examined his papers curiously, Antonio got an idea.

"Hey," he suggested, "Can you quiz me?"

Lovino frowned. "Quiz you?"

"You know, test me on this stuff. You can look at my notes- I've underlined the terms in blue. You can just ask me what stuff means and I can respond!"

"Do I have to?" Lovino complained, wrinkling his nose.

"Well, no, but it'd be a big help!"

"I have my own work to do. Like, actual work."

"Such as?"

"None of your business." Lovino turned sharply on his heel and stalked back behind the counter, pulling out a piece of paper from his apron pocket and smoothing it out on the flat surface. He bent over it, a red pen in hand, and read to himself, whispering the words.

"What is that?" Antonio asked, stretching his neck to try to see what it was. Lovino raised his middle finger at him and continued to read, not looking up. He circled something in red pen and then got out a calculator from the desk underneath, jabbing the buttons crudely. He chewed his lip nervously as the numbers added up, and then glanced at his paper, comparing the two figures.

Antonio watched him as his face fell and he buried his head in his hands, letting his face slide down until his palms were on his forehead, fingers tangled in his dark brown hair. He looked back at the calculator desperately and then, without warning or any small gesture or movement that might have indicated what he would do next, swore at the top of his lungs and flung the small hand-calculator across the room. He swore again, in Italian, ripping the paper up into little pieces and he was about to throw those too but Antonio grabbed his arm, preventing him from further destruction.

"What? What is it?" Antonio asked fervently.

"Three weeks," Lovino panted, breathing heavily from his tantrum. "Three _fucking _weeks and I'm out!"

"Out? From where?"

"The shelter!"

"They're just gonna kick you out?" said Antonio disbelievingly. "Doesn't that defeat the purpose of a shelter?"

"We each get 6 months, and I-" Lovino broke off.

"And you've used it up?" Antonio let go of Lovino's arm, letting it swing back down limply to his side. "But then- what are you going to do?" he asked.

"I don't know!" Lovino exploded, his face blotched red from anger. "I don't fucking know- the cheapest motel rent in town is $80 and I have $54- I can't stay with my brother- _FUCK!" _he screamed, turning and punching the wall.

"Whoa, hey, Lovi," Antonio implored, but Lovino just drew back his fist and punched the wall over and over, a dent in the plaster forming, his knuckles bloody and dusted with bits of plaster.

"Calm down!" Antonio ordered, assuming a role of false commando and composure, but Lovino continued to pound the wall mercilessly. Upon realizing that pleading and yelling and cajoling wouldn't do any good, Antonio put his arms around Lovino's waist and pulled him away with much difficulty.

"It'll be okay," he tried to reassure Lovino, but even he didn't believe it. "We'll figure something out."

* * *

Antonio waited outside the coffee shop the next evening. He didn't have any money to spend, and it was about to close. Besides, he had something else planned beside a light snack. He scrolled through the messages on his phone as Lovino swept the floor until the door swung open.

"Loitering is a crime, you know." Lovino's frosty voice rang through the torpid winter air, little puffs of air birthed from his lungs.

Antonio grinned and put his phone away, looking up. "I'm not loitering," he argued, "I'm waiting."

"Tell that to the judge." A corner of Lovino's mouth tugged upwards, a crude hint of a smile. "Anyway. What did you want?"

"To give you this." Antonio dug in his coat pocket, bringing out a crumpled envelope. He smoothed it out and brushed the lint off of it and then presented it ostentatiously to Lovino.

"What is it?" Lovino asked, reaching out a tentative hand but not taking it.

"40 dollars. It's all I could scrape together for now, but later I-"

"I can't take this," Lovino said sharply.

"This is no time for pride- winter is coming and you'll be without a place to live, you need this money!" Antonio thrust the envelope at Lovino.

"I found a place already," Lovino lied quickly.

Antonio blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. I'm fine. Keep your money." Lovino pushed the envelope back towards Antonio and a little stunned, he stared at it for a moment before putting it back into his pocket.

"Anyway," Lovino mumbled, deliberately looking away from Antonio for he was afraid he would be able to sense the falsity in his eyes, "Is that all?"

"Uhh.." Antonio didn't have anything planned out- he had just assumed he would give Lovino the money and Lovino would be so grateful he would abstain from insulting Antonio for the evening.

Lovino rolled his eyes. "In that case, I'll go." He started to walk away but Antonio grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

"Wait!" he said, and then realized he had said it much louder than he had intended, practically yelling the word, so loud that Lovino jumped and a few people around them stopped and stared for a couple seconds before moving on. "Wait," he said again, much quieter, although he maintained his hold on Lovino's arm. "Why don't we go for dinner together?" he suggested.

Lovino eyed him suspiciously. "I can't buy anything with.." he paused and rifled around in his pocket for a second, pulling out a wadded dollar and a couple coins. He laid them flat on his palm and counted the coins, whispering the numbers as he added. "..two dollars and seventy-eight cents."

Antonio frowned. "You can't possibly make that little in a whole day."

"I get a paycheck at the end of the week, which I have mailed directly to my granddad. I live off the tips."

"Seriously? Is that even possible?"

"No." Lovino laughed harshly.

"Jesus.." Antonio rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. He didn't know what to say. While his family was by no means rich, they had a lot more money than Lovino had probably ever seen since he had come to America, and in a way Antonio was embarrassed by it. He so desperately wanted to get closer to Lovino, to understand him, to be his friend and confidant that to be so blatantly different in terms of socio-economic development and upbringing was practically a source of shame.

Yet Lovino seemed to be feeling as awkward as Antonio, staring at his shoes, his ears red.

"H-How about I pay?" Antonio asked, hoping his voice didn't show how out of place he felt. Lovino looked up as Antonio spoke, and then, embarrassed, looked back down at his feet again, biting his lower lip.

"I'll pay you back.." he mumbled, his voice tiny and barely audible over the noise of the traffic.

"Sure you will." As soon as the words dropped out, stewed in sarcasm, Antonio regretted it.

"Sorry," he said quickly, holding his hands up defensively, palms out. "I didn't mean-"

"Of course you didn't." Lovino's smile was forced, harsh, and gritty and Antonio could feel something rise up in the base of his throat sickeningly.

"I- " Antonio stammered.

"I think I'll go home," Lovino said, quietly but coldly, his voice piercing through Antonio, making him feel as if he had just taken an ice shower. He turned on his heel and started to leave.

"W-Wait!" Antonio called after his quickly retreating form, but Lovino didn't answer and continued walking. "I'm sorry!" he yelled, but his voice was lost in the freezing wind. "I'm…" He hung his head, ashamed. He couldn't believe he had said that- it had just come out- why did he always have to do this, why did he always have to fuck up…?

"For fuck's sake," a familiar, irritated voice sounded from right above his hung head, "you can't last a second without me, can you?"

"L-Lovi?" he sniffled, raising his head.

"Who else would I be?"

"I- I'm sorry!" Antonio wailed, suddenly throwing himself on Lovino and burying his face in Lovino's warm shoulder.

"H-Hey!" Lovino exclamated testily, but after a moment he softened a bit, even patting Antonio awkwardly on the back as he clutched Lovino's shirt like a child.

"I didn't mean it," Antonio moaned, his voice muffled. "I'm sorry."

"Shit, it's okay. Don't worry about it."

"I'm so-"

"Jesus, I said it was okay! Small deal."

Antonio looked up, confused, and wiped his nose. "Small deal?"

Lovino frowned. "It's what you say, right? 'No big deal;' 'small deal?'"

"No," Antonio said, starting to laugh. "No one says that."

"Oh." Lovino seemed to deflate slightly. "Oh," he said again, in a slightly smaller voice.

"Don't worry about it," Antonio said. He paused, feeling his stomach rumble. "Dinner?"

* * *

Antonio watched as Lovino dug through two servings of rice and a whole platter of sweet and sour chicken, practically pouring it down his throat. Antonio only stopped him when he started to use his fingers to mop up the leftover sauce.

"Do you want some more?" Antonio asked. Lovino shook his head quickly, looking down at his scoured plate. Antonio could tell he was probably still hungry, but too embarrassed to ask for more, so he decided to give Lovino a break and take initiative.

"'Scuse me," he called, waving his hand at the server. "I'm still hungry. Could I have another order of this chicken?" The waiter nodded curtly and within minutes another steaming plate was brought to their table. Antonio took a couple bites of the chicken and then leaned back in his chair, announcing theatrically:

"Wow, I'm so full," he articulated, looking pointedly at Lovino, who was fidgeting in his seat. "I don't know how I'll finish all this. Lovi, you'd better finish for me."

Lovino glared at him. "You're a terrible actor," he scowled.

"Who, me?" Antonio raised his eyebrows dramatically. He subtly pushed the plate of chicken towards Lovino. He turned his gaze towards the plate and, shooting Antonio one last angry look, picked up his fork and began to eat.

* * *

Antonio saw Lovino home, waving goodbye at the entrance of the shelter. As he turned to leave, he saw out the corner of his eye Lovino watching him. He grinned over his shoulder at him, his smile widening as Lovino flushed red and quickly hurried out of sight.

Antonio walked with a spring in his step all the way home.


	12. Shards

Antonio hurried into the coffee shop, stamping his feet and blowing on his freezing, cracked hands as he welcomed the gust of warm air that awaited him in the heated interior.

"Happy winter," he said, even the sub-zero temperatures unable to dampen his spirits. Winter break was finally upon him, the terror of finals no longer looming over him, a dark cloud of stress and eraser stubble.

Lovino trembled from behind the coffee machine, his breath short. He leaned over just a little bit, to peek at Antonio, but a jolt ran through him as he saw Antonio smile at him in that familiar, enchanting way and give him a little wave. Quickly Lovino hid again, his heart knocking against his ribs.

Why did he always do this when he saw Antonio, damn it?! He had come to America for two reasons: one, because he had no choice, seeing as Roma threw him out, and two, so that he could clean his head, cure himself of his 'problem' so that he could return and Roma would be healthy again. And it seemed that the opposite of his hopes was happening- no matter how he tried to tell himself and Antonio otherwise, he couldn't help but feel his knees go weak every time Antonio walked into the room, couldn't help but hope that if he called Antonio 'bastard' enough times, he would start to hate Antonio the way he pretended to, couldn't help but continue making coffee and small change and humming that song Antonio always sang as he worked to pass the time until he next saw him.

He hated himself for feeling this way, for being this way. Some nights he would lie on his tiny cot at the shelter and stare at the pictures taped above him and see only Antonio, hugging the pillow and smelling the last remnants of Antonio's scent from that time he had come and stayed. One time he even packed up his few belongings, telling himself that he should just leave town and forget all about Antonio, but he barely got farther than the adult video store before he sat down on his duffel bag in an alley and squinted at the sky, trying to make out the faint stars hidden by pollution and clouds, and wondered how he would ever get home to Italy if he continued to think about Antonio, another man, in this way, and yet he couldn't stop.

Every night he prayed, clutching his cross between his hands clasped under his chin, whispering in Italian and bits of broken Latin and English, begging god to cure him of the confusion and pain swirling inside him, but of course there was no answer. Perhaps there was no one listening, he thought once, but then berated himself and did double prayers that night, pleading for relief from the unending rollercoaster of emotions taking place in his tortured brain.

His hands shaking, he brought Antonio his mocha and started to hurry away, but Antonio said simply,

"Wait," and Lovino couldn't refuse.

"Yeah?" he said, facing away from Antonio.

"You wanna go out for dinner tonight?" Lovino felt a soaring sensation in his stomach- yes, of course, but then Antonio spoke again and his stomach dropped like a heavy stone. "I want you to meet my girlfriend," Antonio continued.

Lovino couldn't move, rooted to the spot. A horrible rushing sounded in his ears and everything muted, there was only the horror and pain and embarrassment left. He could feel himself crumbling, felt like he was falling, and then he felt the impact of the ground and realized he had indeed fallen, the sensation of the cold linoleum and a pain in his leg woke him slightly, and over the rush in his ears he could hear Antonio yelling his name with worry in his voice, in that lovely voice, the voice that belonged to the man he loved, who loved someone else and not Lovino, never Lovino, because it was never Lovino, was it- there was always someone else, his brother, Antonio's girlfriend… even Feliciano ignored him now that he had Ludwig to take his brother's place... Lovino had scared away everyone with his rudeness and brusque attitude and now he had no one left…

"Lovino? Lovino!" Antonio yelled again, and his voice brought Lovino back. He blinked, and slowly he could see Antonio above him, green eyes right above his.

Lovino sat up quickly, unable to face those eyes anymore. His stomach churned and he felt like he was going to be sick. The rushing in his head hadn't yet ceased and it ached dully. Wincing, Lovino lifted a hand to it. He felt like lead: heavy, useless, a burden.

"What happened there? Are you okay?" Antonio asked and Lovino wanted to throw up; even now that voice still made his heart beat faster despite the fact that he knew Antonio didn't love Lovino and never would, because who would love Lovino? Who would love someone like him, who never said what he felt and instead what he wanted to think, who insulted and scared away everyone he had ever cared about, a sick faggot with nothing to his name and no talents or anything to be proud of?

"Just a bit dizzy," Lovino lied. "I just need to eat something and then I'll be fine."

"Ah, great. So will you be able to make it tonight? I'll meet you at 7."

"I can't." The last thing Lovino wanted to do was meet the pretty, nice, smart, rich girl that Antonio loved and see everything that Lovino lacked in her.

"Aw, okay. Another time then. You sure you're okay? I gotta go to class soon but I could skip if you really need me to." Damn it, why did Antonio have to be so fucking _nice _about everything, it made it so much harder to be angry.

"I'm good. Go to class."

"Cool, thanks. You can finish the rest of my pastry and mocha if you want. See you." Lovino didn't say anything, just nodded a quick goodbye, unable to look up until he heard the bell on the door jingle as it closed.

Slowly, almost painfully, Lovino picked himself off the floor, clutching the counter for support. He shuffled to Antonio's table and picked up the coffee mug, staring into its depths for a moment before yelling and smashing it on the ground, coffee and shards of porcelain flying everywhere. Lovino fell to his knees, the porcelain slicing his leg and the pain felt good, almost refreshing, bracing. He couldn't cry, couldn't speak, could barely even breathe. Dazed, he sat there for a long time until finally he pulled himself together and cleaned up the shards.

* * *

Lovino spent the rest of the day in a daze. Twice he messed up customers' orders, one of whom insisted another free one. When Lovino refused, the cardboard coffee cup was thrown at him, soaking him in the brown liquid. It wasn't hot enough by that point to burn, but just enough to sting, and it left his clothes wet, cold, and sticky for the rest of the day.

Glad to escape, Lovino trudged home, freezing in his wet clothes without a coat in the December winter. He reached the shelter, but was stopped at the front.

"Today's your last day," the woman at the front said. "Get your things together and be out within the next hour."

Lovino was too tired to even be angry with himself for getting too caught up in Antonio to remember his eviction. He just nodded, unable to comprehend what was happening. Slowly, he tore down the pictures and postcards from the bottom of the bunk above him. Slowly, he shoved his few belongings into his tattered duffel bag. Slowly, he signed out of the shelter and walked out into the winter night.

* * *

Lovino wandered around the town blankly, clutching his duffel bag. On this freezing night, no one dared be outside for too long, and yet here he was. It was so cold that when Lovino inhaled, the cold air froze his nostrils. Knowing he needed to find someplace warm and soon, Lovino pulled his sweatshirt up over his nose and his hood down to his brow, trying to cover as much of himself as he could, like some sort of dirty hijab. He headed to the bus station- he could stay there at least until midnight, when it closed, and then he'd have to find someplace else.

* * *

He fell asleep on a bench inside the station and was woken up by the janitor at around 1:30 am.

"Sorry," the janitor apologized, clutching a mop, "I let you sleep 'till I finished cleaning, but I really do have to lock up now. If you want you could-"

"I'm fine," Lovino interrupted, sitting up quickly and running a hand through his hair tiredly. "Really. Sorry to trouble you." Before the janitor could say anything else, Lovino had placed his hands on his knees and hauled himself to his feet and hurried quickly away, his duffel bag swung over one shoulder.

Without thinking, his feet carried him to Antonio's dorm building and he stood in front of it for a while, clutching his bag, swaying slightly and watching the light in Antonio's window, feeling a foreign pain in his chest. He couldn't go to Antonio. Not like this. Not when he knew there was nothing for him there.

* * *

He settled down in an alley between two houses, hugging his knees and arms to his chest, trying to conserve body heat. Still he was freezing and so he grabbed a couple smelly black trash bags and covered himself with them. They made him slightly warmer, but the stench was stifling and it took a while before Lovino could breathe.

He let himself fall sideways onto one of the trashbags, smelling spoiled milk and tomato sauce, and closed his eyes, hoping desperately for sleep, but it didn't come. Instead images of Antonio haunted the backs of his eyelids, like a perverse movie screen. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, but he couldn't rid himself of that familiar, smiling face. Even now, the thought made his chest warm and he hated the fact that it did. Pain and hurt welled up in his throat and quickly he brought his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes furiously, grinding into them with his palms until they hurt and Antonio's face had disappeared into popping pinwheels and fireworks.

Still, it was a while before he was able to fall asleep completely, and even then he woke up frequently throughout the night, his breath gathering in front of him.


	13. Why Her

He awoke to the sound of someone snickering in front of him. Quickly Lovino opened his eyes, only to see a scruffy teenager standing before him, holding a hose.

"Looks like you need a wash," the teenager said, his face twisted unpleasantly.

"No-" Lovino tried to say, holding his hands up pleadingly, knocking off the trash bags, but before he could finish a jet of freezing water shot into his face with such pressure that it actually hurt. He tried to scream, but water just piled in his mouth and nose, pouring down his throat and he couldn't breathe- couldn't breathe-

Quickly he got up, his eyes squeezed shut, using the wall for support and began to ran.

"Dirty hobo!" The teenager yelled and followed slowly, the water hitting Lovino's back with enough force that it made him stumble and fall, scraping his knee before he scrambled back to his feet. Finally he escaped the teenager and his hose, but he was completely soaked and freezing. Even though the water was no longer drowning him, he still couldn't breathe well because he was so cold, his lungs aching and freezing every time he inhaled. He doubled over, hands on his knees, panting, and then realized he had left his duffel bag behind.

Lovino straightened up, trying to take a couple deep breaths and cajole himself to go back there.

"Your pictures are there," he told himself. "Your Bible and your clothes." Finally Lovino forced himself to turn around and head back, starting at a jog and then increasing as he saw that the teenager was still in the front yard, peering around, the hose still in his hand. Lovino shot past him, seeing out the corner of his eye the young boy- he must have been about 15 or 16- reach for the nozzle on his hose and in an instant a blast of ice-cold water slammed into his back but Lovino kept running.. he stooped down, grabbed his bag and looped around the small house, jumping the chain link. A dog started barking and chased at his heels, yapping and baring its teeth menacingly. Lovino raced to the other side of the fence, placing a hand on it, one hand on his duffel, and swung himself over, running back to the front of the house where a jet of water blasted him in the face and he forced himself to keep running, keep running even as he couldn't breathe, his throat filling with water, suffocating him…

And then he had gotten past the boy and into the street. A car honked and squealed to a stop as he ran past it; as he reached the other side of the street he heard several voices yelling, swearing at him but he couldn't stop, his legs wouldn't let him, even as his hair was freezing, a small layer of ice forming on his skin as he ran and ran. He saw the time on the electronic clock signboard of the local bank- 9:32 AM, a whole half hour later than when he should have opened the shop. He made himself speed up, his body burning and freezing at the same time, his breath short and ragged. Finally he made it to the shop, a pang of heated panic rising in his chest as he saw Antonio waiting outside the glass door, his brow furrowed in confusion and worry as he checked the time on his phone again and again. His head lifted as Lovino neared and he opened his mouth, but Lovino just ran past him and pulled the key out of his pocket, unlocked the door as fast as he could with his shaking hands, and tumbled into the shop, falling to the hard linoleum. Exhausted, he rolled over onto his back, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he fought for breath.

"Lovi!" Antonio cried, hurrying into the shop and kneeling beside Lovino. "What happened- are you okay- why were you running- what from- oh my God, you're soaked!" Antonio reached his hand out to Lovino but he had neither the breath nor the strength to fight him.

Finally Lovino lurched upright, forcing Antonio's hand away and drawing a loud, raspy breath that broke off into a cough. His chest knocked against his bent knees and it felt hollow and yet so heavy, his whole body was so empty but still it weighed him down.

"What the hell happened?" Antonio demanded, and Lovino felt something- Antonio's hand, on his back, sending heat through his entire body.

"I-" Lovino tried to explain through breaths, in a way that wouldn't make Antonio worry, and yet the more he thought about it, the harder it was to breathe. "I got hosed," he gasped finally.

"Hosed? What do you mean?"

"Some kid," Lovino paused for breath, "turned on his hose and aimed it at me."

"Why?"

"You think I know?!"

"Right. Sorry." Antonio looked down. "I missed you last night. Ems- my girlfriend- really wants to meet you."

"Of course she does," Lovino groaned. Just when he thought this day couldn't get any worse, Antonio had to go and mention his girlfriend.

Antonio narrowed his eyes. "What does that mean?" he said defensively. "You can insult me all you want, but don't insult my g-"

"I wasn't insulting her," Lovino coughed. "Relax." Antonio looked at him funny, as if trying to decipher some sort of hidden meaning, until he realized that there was none and he softened.

"Sorry," he apologized again. "I just-"

"Really love her," Lovino muttered, getting to his feet, keeping his face out of Antonio's sight. "I know."

"Glad you understand," Antonio said, and though the words were lighthearted, Antonio's face, unseen by Lovino, showed something else, something darker- longing, lust, and regret.

"Small mocha, two shots of espresso?" Antonio heard Lovino's voice from behind the coffee machines. He seemed less full of vim and vigor and vicious wit than usual, acting strangely sullen and it affected Antonio more than he would have liked to admit.

After a moment Lovino placed a steaming cup on the counter and said to the walls, "Small mocha, two shots of espresso, pastry?"

Antonio frowned. "Aren't you going to bring it to me?" he asked.

Lovino looked at him blankly. "Why would I do that?" he said, his voice empty.

"I-" Antonio felt something inside his heart quail and wither. He had the strange feeling that he had done this, that he had hurt Lovino in some way, but he didn't know how or why or how to fix it. All his textbooks and training and lectures worked for his test patients, for he was now interning at the psychiatric ward at the local hospital, helping to counsel inmates, but Lovino continued to defy everything he had learned and remain a mystery to Antonio.

Slowly Antonio got up, his chair scooting backwards and making a loud scraping sound against the floor as it moved. It was the only sound in the room and he flinched, the noise unholy and brash.

Antonio approached the counter warily, glancing at Lovino. Lovino was turned away from him, bent over a book. He was still soaked, but the icicles that had formed in his hair had since melted and a small puddle had formed beneath him, little droplets of ice water dripping off of him rhythmically. Beside him was a battered duffel bag, half unzipped, and Antonio saw inside it clothes and, the laminated surface gleaming under the fluorescent, off-white flat rectangular ceiling lights that adorned the ceilings of many a public venue, a picture he recognized from above Lovino's bunk bed; a sickly old man in a wheelchair with an IV and tubes under his nose. With a jolt, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and consulted the calendar; three weeks had passed.

"Where you staying nowadays?" Antonio asked, his voice echoing off the walls.

Without missing a beat, Lovino replied smoothly, "Feliciano's friend's apartment. I'm just keeping my things with me because I don't trust him with my stuff."

Antonio forced a hasty laugh. "I see." He leaned further over the counter, making sure not to knock over his coffee, as he strained to see the title of Lovino's book.

"What'cha reading?" he asked, giving up finally. Lovino held up the book while continuing to read: _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone._

"That's a good book," Antonio mused. "I didn't know you were into those sorts of books."

"My teacher recommended it to me," Lovino said, turning the page.

"Oh, right- you take classes, don't you? I still don't really know what kind of classes they are," said Antonio hopefully, trying to garner an answer from Lovino, but Lovino merely shrugged.

"The first time we met, you said you were learning to 'not be a total fuckup,'" Antonio added helpfully. "And I said, 'I didn't know the University offered classes like that,' and you said-"

Lovino closed his book with a snap after folding the corner of the page to mark his place.

"I remember, you don't need to tell me," he said sharply.

"Cool! And then you said, 'they don't, I go to-'"

"You really want to know?" Lovino said, turning on his heel to face Antonio. He looked strained, tired, and angry, and Antonio worried he may have been too pushy. There were noticeable bags under his eyes, which were ringed with red and bloodshot.

He stared down Antonio for a second before sighing and reaching into his duffel bag, rummaging around until he pulled out a crumpled pamphlet. He dropped it on the counter

next to Antonio's coffee cup and then turned back around, opening his book, his ears red.

Antonio smoothed out the paper and read aloud: "Overcoming Social Anxiety: How to Interact With Others."

"Go ahead and laugh," Lovino mumbled, his ears and neck burning. "It's pathetic, I know."

"No, no, not at all," Antonio said quickly, trying to reassure Lovino. "I think it's… admirable, that you're trying to, er, get over it- you know?"

Lovino scoffed irritably but said nothing, determinedly looking at his book though he hadn't turned the page in a very long time.

"You okay?" Antonio asked, after minutes of eyeing Lovino suspiciously.

"Yeah," Lovino muttered, "Fine."

And then, so quietly Antonio wasn't even sure if he had heard it or not,

"Why her?"

Antonio froze in shock, almost hoping that it was his imagination.

"W-What?" he said, his voice feeling too loud and abrasive, but he got no reply apart from still silence, the coffee machines whirring.

"Your coffee's getting cold," Lovino said, his voice empty.

"I- yeah-" Antonio felt as if an anvil had been dropped on him; dazed, confused, he picked up his coffee and simply walked out the door, not letting himself look back.

* * *

Antonio didn't have the strength to return that evening and instead, the next morning, brought Emma to the coffee shop. Lovino's eyes widened as they walked in, hand in hand, his face turning slightly pink when they approached the counter together.

Antonio had decided he wasn't going to hide anything from Lovino anymore. To remind them both, but mostly himself, of his relationship with the kindest, smartest, prettiest girlfriend, he figured it would be best to introduce Lovino and Emma to each other, so that there was no confusion.

_She's gorgeous, _Lovino realized as she came closer. He looked down- the two of them, Antonio and his girlfriend, were so blindingly beautiful it almost hurt to look at them. Lovino could already tell they were the perfect couple; he could practically see the electricity flowing through their intertwined fingers, connecting them together in ways he couldn't imagine.

"This is Emma," Antonio introduced, a wide smile on his face, and _god, _Lovino could hear how much he loved her when he said her name like that, as if she was the most special thing in the world, and he wondered if anyone would ever say his name like that…

"Hello!" Her voice was warm and rich, and she extended a slender hand towards Lovino, forcing him to look up and at her.

"N-N-Nice to meet you," Lovino stammered, reaching his shaking hand to hers. She grasped his hand firmly and shook it much more powerfully than Lovino had expected for a woman of her build. When she was done he quickly withdrew his hand, rubbing his arm nervously.

"Ahh," she cooed, startling Lovino, and he looked up, but Emma was looking at Antonio. "He's sweet. Isn't he sweet?" She squeezed Antonio's hand.

Antonio's eyes met with Lovino's for a scarce instant, before Lovino flushed and directed his gaze at the counter. "Yeah, he's pretty cute," he admitted, grinning. He reached out to ruffle Lovino's hair affectionately, but Lovino, suddenly angry, smacked his hand away.

"Don't fucking talk about me in front o-" He broke off, coughing wildly. He doubled over, unable to stop, one hand clutching the counter for support, the other in front of his mouth. He had been coughing and sneezing a lot since the previous morning, when he had slept outside in winter and been doused with cold water. His chest, head, and throat ached numbly, and Lovino was pretty sure he was ill. However, he couldn't not work: if he took a sick day he would have nowhere to stay and would end up being outside, which would make his illness worse. No, the best place for him right now was inside the warm coffee shop, and as long as he washed his hands frequently he should be okay. The real problem was what to do when work was over; he obviously couldn't stay in the same alley he had two nights ago, and last night he had gotten about maybe four hours sleep total in a public bathroom, which had not been heated during the night.

Finally the coughs ceased and he straightened up, embarrassed.

"Sorry," he tried to apologize to Emma and Antonio, who were staring at him, agape, but he started to cough again, though not as violently as before. "Sorry," he said again, once he was finished completely.

"I think I have a-" he sneezed, "A- A cold."

"You think?" Antonio said, though he looked concerned, as did Emma. Lovino merely wiped his nose and asked,

"Mocha? And for Miss… er, Emma..?"

"I'll have a macchiato," she said, a look of faint worry still on her face. "Oh, a caramel one," she added, as Lovino turned around to wash his hands after receiving the money from Antonio. He nodded, and as he washed his hands he noticed that they were shaking. He could hear two chairs scraping on the ground as Antonio pulled out a chair for Emma before getting one for himself. Antonio mumbled something quietly, too quiet for Lovino to pick out distinct words; he could just hear the pleasant low hum of Antonio's voice, and then Emma's high, tinkling laughter. Lovino scowled.

He was just drying his hands when he burst into another coughing fit and had to wash his hands all over again. A whole two minutes had passed before he could start the coffees.

Finally he brought two mugs over to their table, receiving two small "Thanks" from Emma and Antonio, and then scarpered as quick as he could. He didn't want to have to look at the pair of them, chatting and flirting and being the cutest goddamn fucking couple in the whole fucking world. If Lovino were a girl, could that be him; sitting across from Antonio and looking into his deep green eyes as Antonio spoon-fed him the whipped cream on top of his mocha and laughed about something inane…

"Lovi?" Antonio's voice broke Lovino out of his daydream and he looked up sharply. "We're gonna go now," he continued.

"Oh. Right." Yes, please leave, so Lovino didn't have to look at the two of them being happy together and be reminded of all his faults and why he could never have that.

"It was really nice meeting you, Lovino," said Emma kindly.

"See you," said Antonio.

Lovino didn't reply to either of them, just nodded and waited for them to leave.

* * *

The next few days he spent in a sort of feverish haze; even though he was wearing the warmest clothes he had, he was always freezing, and there was a strange pain in his chest and throat when he coughed or even breathed. During the night he could never sleep, but during work he found himself nodding off frequently. His coughing fits were even more frequent and painful and several times he wondered if he should just swallow his embarrassment and pride and actually ask for help, but he always dismissed these thoughts, yelling at himself internally for even thinking it. He was _not_ going to give in, damn it!

And yet, after one particularly bad coughing fit, he pulled his hand away from his mouth and saw with horror that it was speckled with blood. The first thing he thought was: _Antonio._

_No. _He berated himself, shaking his head frantically as if he could shake Antonio off his mind, but it just made him dizzy. He couldn't go to Antonio for help, he just couldn't. Even the thought of Antonio was painful, and it was because of this he had come up with a plan:

If he couldn't make himself not love Antonio, he'd have to just lock up those feelings, hide them so far away even he wouldn't be able to dredge them back up again. Because not feeling anything was better than feeling the pain he felt when he thought of Antonio and his gorgeous girlfriend Emma, who was everything Lovino was not.

And despite the fact that he had promised to not love Antonio, nothing changed- he could still feel his heart speed up whenever Antonio walked into the room, could feel something inside him melt whenever Antonio said his name, could feel his knees go weak and his body temperature rise if Antonio got close enough.

_Give in, _one part of him said, but if he did, what would happen? What would change? Antonio would still love Emma, Lovino would still feel his heart leap when he heard the bell on the door jingle as Antonio walked in… no matter what, every ending was the same: Antonio didn't love Lovino, he never would, and nothing Lovino could do would make Antonio fall for him. Yet even as he told himself these cold, hard, facts, trying to convince himself that all he could do was hide his true feelings and continue numbly on, some part of him kept hoping, kept dreaming, and as hard as he tried to reason with himself, he couldn't stop.

* * *

_I just want to say that the event that occurred in the first part of this chapter actually happened to a friend of mine. Many homeless people experience prejudice or unwarranted hatred on the assumption that they are addicts or mentally insane or just the dregs of society, when in fact most are just unlucky people. So please do not judge someone by whether they wear a suit or rags; a person's wealth is not a legitimate commentary on their actual being._

_Thank you for reading. _


	14. The Ambulance Ride

Lovino practically dragged himself to work the next morning. His limbs were so heavy he could hardly move, and he had no energy whatsoever. Finally he reached the shop and unlocked it, stepping inside. He coughed into a tissue, seeing with disgust the red staining it when he pulled away. Angrily he crumpled it up and tossed it into the dustbin along with all the other bloody tissues.

The bell on the door jingled and he looked up sleepily, only to see Antonio.

"Wow. You look horrible," Antonio remarked, taking in Lovino's pale, sallow complexion, the dark circles under his eyes, his hollow cheeks.

"Thanks," Lovino started to say sarcastically, but halfway through, he erupted into another coughing fit.

"Sor-" he coughed, "Moch-" He coughed some more.

"Hey, you… are you okay?" Antonio asked, his brow furrowing in concern.

"Yeah-" Lovino bent over the sink, retching. "-Fine-" Several drops of blood fell from his mouth and made loud _plink_s as they hit the metal sink. He stuck out a hand to tell Antonio not to come over, but it was too late; Antonio was already by his side, peering over Lovino's shoulder. His eyes widened when he saw what it was.

"Blood," he realized. "You're coughing up blood."

Lovino was too tired to even argue; he just stood there, bent over the sink, feeling blood drip off his bottom lip and pool in the sink.

"…come on….hospital…lets go…" Lovino couldn't make out what Antonio was saying; the words swirled around in his head until they dissolved and were replaced by static.

"…Lovi…can you hear me…Lovi…Lovi…Lovi…" The name stuck in Lovino's head and repeated over and over, grossly, and he felt sick, he couldn't stand it anymore, yet it continued, speeding up until it was just high-pitched gabbling 'LoviLoviLoviLoviLovi..'

Vaguely he felt his arm shoot out, and felt skin under it- he was pushing Antonio away- his legs were moving- he was running- blurred shots of lines of packets of coffee flew across his retinas and he realized he was in the storage room- the door shut behind him- there was a pain in his side: he had run into a shelf; he felt around, spots filling his vision, and tried to run again- he tripped over a broom and grabbed a nearby shelf for support- he felt it give under his hand and something cold- fear- constricted in his chest as he forced himself to look up at the shelf that was toppling onto him…

* * *

"Lovi!" Antonio yelled, and he rammed his shoulder into the door again, trying to force it open. Finally the lock busted and Antonio hurried into the room.

"Hello, yes, I need an ambulance," he gasped into his cellphone, staring warily at Lovino's limp form collapsed on the floor, a shelf crushing him. Several glass bottles had fallen from the shelf and broken on him, and he was covered in syrup and coffee beans and powder. Antonio gave them the address, and then he tossed his phone aside and scurried to Lovino's side. His muscles straining, he lifted up the shelf a little bit and, using his foot, he nudged Lovino out of the way before dropping the shelf back onto the floor with a large crash. He picked Lovino up gingerly, cradling him in his arms, his head lolling back against Antonio's forearm. All of a sudden, Lovino slowly lifted his head up, coughing, and Antonio realized he was still partly conscious.

"Lovi?" he said frantically, but Lovino just kept coughing, an amazing amount of blood spitting out of his mouth and all over himself and Antonio.

The door burst open and two people clad in yellow garb rushed in, carrying a stretcher between the two of them. Reluctantly, for he didn't want to let go of Lovino, Antonio placed him gently on the stretcher and followed close behind.

He entered the ambulance and while some of the emergency crew glanced at him warily, they did not make him leave. He stayed, silently watching, as they rolled Lovino onto his side, because he was beginning to choke on his own blood, as they placed on his face a plastic mask that pumped air into his nose and mouth because he couldn't breathe on his own, as they tubed nutrients into his veins…

* * *

Lovino dreamed he was kissing Antonio, who, for some reason, tasted like blood. He opened his mouth slightly, to let Antonio in, and there was a strange sensation inside of him… he couldn't breathe.. he opened his eyes in alarm, trying to pull back but couldn't, and all the air was flowing out of him- Antonio was literally taking his breath away… Lovino tried to breathe but there was only blood, filling his throat and lungs, he was drowning, suffocating…

"He's not breathing!" yelled one of the emergency crew, and another pressed on his chest, up and down, up and down. He wore the customary surgeon's mask over his face, but what made him stand out was the red fez perched jauntily on top of his head, contrasting greatly with his yellow fluorescent uniform. He looked sideways at Antonio as he did so, narrowing his eyes as if contemplating something. Finally he said, pulling his mask down to under his chin so that Antonio could see his whole face,

"You wanna do CPR?"

"H-Huh? Me?" Antonio pointed to himself doubtfully.

"Yeah, you just pinch his nose- lock your lips over his, like that, good job," the man commentated, watching Antonio. "Now put your hand on his chest, and push. Keep pushing and then letting go. Don't stop, even if you break a rib. Got it?"

Antonio nodded as best he could with his mouth on top of Lovino's, tasting blood. He closed his eyes, billowed his cheeks, and breathed as forcefully as he could. Lovino's chest lifted briefly; Antonio could feel it under his hand as he pushed. He breathed into Lovino again, encouraged, and his body jerked in response, one finger twitching slightly. Something gave under his palm and Antonio realized it was a rib, maybe two. He tried pushing again and all of a sudden, Lovino coughed- startled, Antonio pulled back as Lovino attempted to sit up, coughing wildly, spewing out blood mixed with phlegm.

"Shit, Lovi, you alright?!" Antonio gasped, but Lovino didn't answer, just fell back down onto the stretcher after he finished coughing and resumed his unconscious state.

"Nice job," said the emergency crew man, nodding impressively. "You got a little something.." the man tapped his jaw beneath his lower lip. Antonio wiped his mouth with the back of the hand, but only succeeded in smearing the spot of Lovino's blood. The man pulled an expression of friendly indifference.

"Ah well," he lamented jovially. He leaned against the wall of the ambulance, crossing his legs. Carefully he took off his fez, dusted it off, and replaced it on his dark hair. Antonio could hear the radio playing faintly in the front, and the man tapped his foot absentmindedly to the beat. Antonio would have thought him a bit rude to be enjoying himself, considering that they were in an ambulance beside an unconscious man who was obviously very ill, but the man seemed so good-spirited and amiable that Antonio couldn't find it in him to be mad.

"How are you so..?" he trailed off, worrying that he might have offended the man, for he looked up, blinked, surprise showing in his raised eyebrows and slightly opened mouth, but Antonio's fears were assuaged when he burst into laughter.

"Why am I so.." the man waved his hand in a circular fashion, fishing for the right word, "..lax, you mean?"

Antonio nodded apprehensively.

"Well, I suppose… it's just the job, I guess. I see many people everyday, with their guts spilling out, or a bullet hole in their neck, or twelve stab wounds… you just get used to it. And your friend here," he nodded towards Lovino on the stretcher, "doesn't seem to be too bad compared to what I've seen before, praise Allah." He raised his eyes upward momentarily, as if he were speaking to Allah up in heaven directly.

The ambulance stopped abruptly and the man flashed Antonio a reassuring grin before pulling his mask back up over his face, unlatching the back hatch of the ambulance and lowering it into a ramp, which he then rolled Lovino's stretcher down and onto the asphalt, another crew worker at the other end. He said to Antonio something that sounded like,

"This is my favorite part," and Antonio wondered what that meant, but then the two men started running, barging into the hospital and making such sharp turns around hallways and passages that Antonio worried that Lovino would get tossed off. However, they all made it to the emergency unit in one piece, and one nurse was courteous enough to pull out a chair for Antonio in the corner before rushing over to the stretcher and immediately getting lost in the crowd of nurses and doctors surrounding Lovino.

Antonio sat and watched, as the doctors and nurses yelled out terms and abbreviations that he didn't know or understand, as new ones came and left, bringing or taking away various tools and utensils, as they connected tubes and needles up to Lovino. He watched them until his eyes hurt, because it was all he could do: sit and watch, as the many white coats and blue uniforms blurred into one big white fuzz surrounding the stretcher. Sometimes, when one of them moved away, Antonio was able to see a bit of Lovino for a second: an arm; his shirt, cut open so the doctors could access his chest (Antonio knew Lovino would be furious by the loss of a shirt when he woke up, and the thought of Lovino waking up cheered him up slightly), his soft, messy hair, before another doctor or nurse replaced the spot and Lovino was lost to Antonio once again.


	15. I'm Not Your Damsel in Distress

Lovino slowly opened his eyes and then shut them instantly: a generic rectangular fluorescent ceiling light was right above him, burning his eyes. After a while, he opened his eyes a crack and attempted to sit up, but as he moved a sharp pain in his chest forced him to lay back down again.

"Lovi!" Antonio's voice rang through Lovino's head painfully loud, and even after Antonio had finished speaking the sound still echoed in increasingly metallic tones until there was just a long, high pitched _bleeeeeep _that finally faded away. Antonio must have seen the discomfort and pain, for he said hurriedly, and quieter,

"Sorry, was that too loud? Did it hurt? They said you'd be in pain for a while- why aren't you opening your eyes, are you okay, Lovi, are you-"

"I'm fi-" His throat felt like gravel had been poured down it and he found it hard to speak. Even his vocal cords weren't cooperating and it came out in a quiet rasp before he burst into coughs.

"Here." He heard the coarse sound of a chair scooting closer and winced, his head ringing again, and then he felt something wet on his lips and realized it was water; he opened his mouth to lap it up eagerly but it poured down his throat and he started choking.

"Oh, shit, sorry- um-" He felt Antonio's hands, strong and firm but yet amazingly gentle pull him to a rough sitting position. Lovino apprehensively opened his eyes now that the light wasn't directly above him, but the room was still too bright for comfort and hurt his head. He tried to lift a hand up to it, but it was too heavy and barely moved. However, Antonio seemed to understand and turned the light down to a dim setting.

"Thanks," Lovino mumbled, but it only made him cough again. Antonio quickly fetched a plastic bedpan from the foot of the bed and held it under Lovino's mouth to catch the blood. Several dull thuds like raindrops on a roof sounded as blood and mucus landed in the pan and Lovino flinched with each one, feeling pain in his ribs, chest, lungs, throat, head, and even back as he did so.

"How are you feeling?" Antonio asked quietly.

"Like shit," Lovino answered truthfully and, groaning, he started to let himself fall back down into a laying position.

"No! Wait- Lovi- don't-!" Antonio said, getting up so quickly he knocked his chair over with a loud crash that reverberated in Lovino's head. Lovino wondered what he was talking about, but then he hit the hard hospital bed and knew; a sharp, piercing pain sliced through his entire upper back, feeling as though he had just been knifed- he let out a loud, sharp yelp from the pain and Antonio quickly covered his mouth with his hand to hide the sound. Smaller, muffled screams slipped through Lovino's lips, getting increasingly quieter as the seconds ticked by slowly and the pain subsided back into a dull, constant beat, leaving with only his gasping breath and a cold sweat that coated his body.

"There are stitches on your back," Antonio said once Lovino had calmed somewhat, taking his hand off his mouth. "From the shelf and the bottles."

Lovino looked confused, so Antonio said again, "The- the shelf..? Remember?"

Lovino tried to shake his head, but it hurt when he moved it and it only urged him to cough some more. Antonio held the bedpan under his chin and Lovino spit out the blood when he was done, grimacing. Every breath he took hurt, and when he coughed his chest and throat ached and tore.

Antonio sighed. "They said you might not remember- you have a really bad concussion. You were trying to run away from me, but you had 104° fever and were delirious. You tripped over a broom, I think, and grabbed a broken shelf for support. One of the legs was wobbly, and it fell on top of you. Then I," Antonio grinned rakishly and flexed his arm muscles mockingly, "lifted the shelf with my bare hands and rescued you, fair Lovino, my damsel in distress."

"I'm not a damsel," Lovino croaked, starting to cough again; luckily the pan was still under his chin. "Nor am I in distress."

"A shelf fell on you, and several glass bottles that were on the shelf broke on your back and head- I think that's pretty distressing, don't you?" Antonio replied, still grinning.

"And you are a damsel; a princess, my poor Italian princess locked in a tower of coffee and homophobia. And I rescued you and carried you in my arms, and we rode off into the sunset together on a white pony!"

Lovino scowled. "You're ridiculous," he huffed, and tried to roll over onto his side, facing away from Antonio, but yelped in pain. He felt Antonio's hands again, gingerly lifting him back onto his back and settling him on the pillow gently. Under Antonio's touch, the pain seemed to drain out of Lovino, replaced by something else; a giddy, hot sensation, and when Antonio lifted his hand Lovino almost wanted to grab it and pull it back down on him, have Antonio never let go so he could feel like this, always…

"But my poor, poor princess," Antonio continued softly, and Lovino opened his mouth to tell him to stop calling him a princess; he was a _man, _for fuck's sake and men shouldn't treat other men like that, it was just weird and wrong and sinful, but he couldn't speak, for Antonio was gazing into his eyes with such intensity Lovino worried he might just melt,

"A horrible spell was placed on him, which broke his ribs and pierced his back, and it will only be lifted by the prince's magical kiss." He waggled his eyebrows impressively. "Guess who the prince is," he grinned, and Lovino's heart skipped a beat… he could feel his face growing hot, and something inside him squirmed pleasantly.

"S-So kiss me then," he said, trying to sound defiant, like he didn't care.

"Very well," Antonio said, not losing the same air of pretentiousness he had maintained throughout his fairy tale, and sat down on the side of Lovino's bed, placing his hands on either sides of Lovino's shoulders, lowering himself so slowly Lovino wanted to grab his collar and pull him down, but he couldn't move, he could only stare as Antonio's green eyes got closer and closer… Lovino closed his eyes, waiting, his heart practically thumping out of his chest… he could feel Antonio's breath tickling his face… and then he felt it, Antonio's lips on his- his cheek…

Antonio gave him a quick peck on the cheek and then drew back. Lovino could feel the disappointment rising in his chest and throat, as if he had swallowed a stone, and he was tempted to grab Antonio's face and try again, make him do it right…

Antonio's face was still hovering right above Lovino's, and he was filled with the sudden urge to punch it. How dare Antonio trick him like that- how could Lovino let himself get so careless; he half wanted to punch himself for falling for Antonio's prank, yet his heart was still beating fast even now that the experience was over.

Antonio's green eyes met with Lovino's own, and then he grinned and Lovino felt his heart leap and couldn't suppress a gasp- Antonio was beautiful, so beautiful, and _God _Lovino wanted him so bad that his chest hurt, and then the pain reminded him just why he couldn't have Antonio, why he had to bury what he felt right now so deep he would never feel again.

"Get _off, _you bastard!" Lovino yelled, his throat and chest aching in protest, and he summoned all his strength and shoved Antonio off of him and then threw the covers over his head, hiding himself, for he could not bear to look at Antonio or to have Antonio look at him.

From beneath the blanket, lost in a tangle of thin, off-white fabric, Lovino heard Antonio sigh, pick up his chair, and then, of all things, laugh.

Lovino felt a twinge of annoyance join the dulling pain in his chest.

"But seriously," Antonio said, his voice in a tone of seriousness Lovino had rarely heard before, "We need to talk."

Lovino didn't answer. He knew what was coming: 'why didn't you tell me,' 'I could have helped,' 'you're such a coward,' why coward afraid cowardwhyafraidwhywhyhelpwhycowardwhy…

There was a rustling above him and he opened his eyes as Antonio pulled the cover off his face, exposing him once more.

"We're waiting for the results of your CAT scan right now, but they're already pretty sure what your problem is. You've been out for a while, so I thought I'd bring you up to speed. Basically, two of your ribs broke from the shelf falling on you, and there was a large gash in your back from the broken bottle. Then,"

To Lovino's amazement, Antonio got out a pad of paper. Lovino lifted his head slightly, his back aching, and saw that it was notes: Antonio had taken notes from the doctor's lecture. Lovino would have laughed at his dorkiness if it hadn't hurt so much.

"Then," Antonio said again, a finger on the paper, "You have really, _really _bad hypothermia- they were amazed you survived this long, but sometimes, apparently, when people get really cold, it kind of… preserves them, you know? Like hibernation, sort of. And that's what they think happened to you- it looks as if you've had hours of exposure, yet periodically you kept warming up, presumably from work, and then you'd go back to almost freezing to death and then warming up again." He looked up from his notes and saw the confusion and fear on Lovino's face.

"Like," he said, trying to explain, "You'd get so cold you were on the brink of death but it sort of preserved you long enough to get to a warm area, and that just kept happening over and over. It basically run down your immune system, your body- even some of your organs. And _then, _as if that wasn't enough," Antonio flipped the page and perused his notes,

"It looks like you have pneumonia. Of course, they can't tell for sure until they get the CAT scan results back, so we're just waiting."

Lovino closed his eyes wearily but Antonio continued, his manner slightly less upbeat than it was before.

"And.." Antonio faltered. "I wish I didn't have to tell you this, but.."

"But?"

"You- You're getting deported. Back to Italy."

"W-What?" Lovino croaked, trying to sit up on his elbows, but it hurt too much and he had to lay back down instead.

"But!" Antonio added so quickly and loudly it hurt Lovino's ears and head, "I'm coming with you."

"_What?!"_

"Yeah- as soon as you get discharged, I'm gonna get a plane ticket too so you won't be alone in Italy. I'll be your… er, your moral support, I suppose, and I can help you work things out with your grandfather!" He puffed out his chest impressively.

"Why?" Lovino snorted. "Why would you ever want to do that?"

"Well, you- you're my friend," Antonio said, looking a little offended. "So I want to help you out. And it sounds like your grandfather could use a talking-to."

Lovino laughed again despite the pain in his chest. "You can't give my grandfather a 'talking-to.' He's 87 and doesn't speak English."

"And that's why," Antonio fumbled inside his bag for a moment before pulling out a small pocket book, the words 'E-Z Italian' written in yellow letters on the front, "I'm learning Italian! And you can help me."

"You want me to teach you Italian when it hurts just to say the word Italian?" Lovino said disbelievingly, but instead of it having the comic effect he had intended, Antonio's brows furrowed in concern and he looked genuinely afraid.

"W-What? It hurts to speak? Doctor! _Doctor!"_

"Fuck, Antonio, it's-" Lovino broke off, coughing. "It's fine," he rasped, spitting out blood, but as he did so, a medical student and a man in a white coat hurried into the room.

"What?" asked the medical student, looking both excited to be working but afraid as well for her patient.

"He- He says it hurts to talk," Antonio explained, shooting a glance at Lovino.

"Oh. Yeah. That's to be expected," the doctor said, and procured a clipboard from the medical student behind him. "I have the results of the CAT scan back, and it's definitely pneumonia. One of the worst cases I've ever seen." He glanced at Lovino over his glasses and under his gaze, Lovino shrank back, subconsciously pulling his blankets up to his chin like a frightened child.

"Specifically, you have bacterial pneumonia, so you'll experience symptoms like a high fever, chills, pain when you breathe, fatigue, pain in your chest and abdominal area, short and rapid breathing, and coughing up mucus. In addition, you're suffering from malnutrition, so while you're here we'll work to bring that up."

"But that's not all," the doctor continued, sounding like a devious game show host who found Lovino's illness a form of entertainment, a corner of his mouth twitching up towards his mustache, "You've also got severe pulmonary aspergillosis."

"Wha-" Antonio started to stand up, looking as if he were both about to either burst into tears or start a fistfight, but the doctor shushed him with an air of pompousness.

"Basically there's mold growing in your lungs- have you lived somewhere that has lots of mildew and moisture and generally bad sanitation?"

"Yeah- the shelter," Antonio answered before Lovino could even open his mouth.

"Yes. Well," the doctor flipped the page over, "You must have breathed in a spore or something, and now there's mold growing in your lungs. This seems to have exacerbated the symptoms of pneumonia, but what we're really worried about is if it's the type that gets into your bloodstream. If it does manage to get from your lungs and into your bloodstream, and if it already has, it can be fatal because then it can go on to infect your major organs. And the risk is doubled for you because you have pneumonia and were suffering from severe hypothermia, which took a big toll on your organs and, most importantly, your immune system."

"We'll need a blood sample, to see if it's in the bloodstream, and if it is, we'll need a blood transfusion." He lowered his glasses and looked directly at Antonio.

"What blood type are you?" he asked.

"Me?" Antonio pointed at his chest, as if there were many others in the room to whom the doctor could have been speaking. When he got no answer save the cold gaze of the doctor, he replied,

"I think I'm an O..?"

"And you?" the doctor turned to Lovino.

"I- I don't know," Lovino confessed, and coughed twice into the bedpan still under his chin.

"Well, we'll find out soon enough. Mary," he snapped, and the medical student who had been standing dormant beside him snapped into action.

"Yessir?" she said, as if in the army, and Lovino half expected her to salute.

"You've practiced blood samples before, haven't you?"

"Yes sir, but only on dummies and guinea pigs." She played nervously with the small ID pinned to her coat lapel that identified her as a medical student.

"How would you like to try one on a real patient?"

"Really?" she gasped, her eyes sparkling. "I mean- if it's okay with you, Mr.." she rose up on her tiptoes to peek at the doctor's clipboard, "..Mr Vargas?"

Lovino tried to say no, but was interrupted by a particularly bad coughing fit and couldn't answer.

"Great," said the doctor brusquely, rubbing his hands together. "First, Mary-"

"The antiseptic," she said, already rubbing at Lovino's arm furiously with a tiny wipe. "And then the rubber band." She tied a strip of rubber around Lovino's arm, cutting off his bloodstream and forcing his veins to pop out.

"Now, you'll feel a little poke," she warned, and then jabbed the needle into his arm.

Lovino howled angrily.

"Does it hurt? Do you wanna hold my hand?" Antonio asked worriedly.

"Fuck no! And I'm fine, just-" he glared momentarily at Mary, "startled, that's all," he finished. Antonio made a grab for his hand anyway and Lovino attempted to smack him away.

"You don't need to hold my hand," he hissed.

"_I_ do, I'm scared of needles," Antonio whimpered and grasped Lovino's hand with such force one of Lovino's knuckles cracked. Lovino rolled his eyes, feeling his face grow hot, but he didn't have the strength, in more ways than one, to pull away. After what seemed an eternity, Mary and the doctor left, leaving Lovino alone in the room with Antonio.

Antonio waited a moment before asking quietly, "Can we talk?"

_Here it comes, _Lovino thought, and bracing himself for the onslaught, he nodded slightly.

"You've had hours of exposure, so bad that you almost died- how? Weren't you living in an apartment? Did it not have heating?" Antonio tried to sound innocent and curious, but he couldn't keep the accusation out no matter how hard he tried.

Lovino closed his eyes, chewing his lip. How could he get out of this one? There was nothing he could say that wouldn't just ascertain the fact that he had lied. He didn't want to see those big sad puppy eyes of Antonio's when he learned that Lovino had lied, hadn't trusted him, had rebuffed him in so many ways that Antonio didn't even know of…

"I... " Lovino desperately searched himself for some plausible reason that wouldn't be blatantly false, but with all his experience in lying, for once he couldn't think of one. "I lied to you." he admitted finally, unable to look Antonio in the eyes. "I was... I didn't have anywhere to go, so I.." he trailed off.

"Why didn't you come to me? I could have- could have-"_  
_

"Could have what? Hid me under your bed?"

"I could have done _something, _which is better than what you did! You almost let yourself... you almost- almost-" Antonio was unable to finish the sentence. Choking back tears, he thrust his arms around Lovino's thin shoulders, sitting on the side of the bed, his torso twisted awkwardly so that he could hold Lovino.

"You almost died!" he sobbed, burying his face in the delicate curvature of the gap between Lovino's neck and shoulder. The familiar scents that meant Lovino both comforted and saddened him.

"Shit, Antonio, it's okay," Lovino wheezed, still struggling for air, but Antonio just dug his face in harder, feeling the soft cartilage and then the bone, sticking out perhaps more than it should.

"N-No it's not!" he wailed. "You- you could have died from hy-hypothermia and m-m-mold in your lungs and you still could die if they d-don't…" Antonio broke off, dissolving into tears. The only thing that kept him grounded was Lovino, his scent; his skin; his hair, tickling his nose; his lean back under the hospital gown that Antonio was clutching into.

"Oh god, Lov_ino.." _bawled Antonio. "I don't know what I'd do w-without you, _mi amor.."_

He didn't even realize he had said it, but Lovino stiffened under his grasp.

"W- What did you say?" he croaked, but it was lost under Antonio's sobs.

Finally Antonio calmed somewhat and wiped his nose on Lovino's sleeve, much to Lovino's disgust, but when he tried to berate Antonio he broke into a coughing fit and couldn't continue.

"You… you never said anything." Antonio sniffed, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. "Why didn't you tell me? I could have helped.." Antonio folded his hands together in his lap, looking down at them solemnly. "Do- Do you not trust me?" His voice cracked.

"No- I-" Lovino found it hard to look at Antonio and instead focused on the medical sink on the other side of the room with the leaky faucet. Every 14 seconds a droplet of water dripped down into the smooth, rectangular, metal basin.

"I just.."

_I just can't trust you, because you made me fall in love with you, and then you told me you had a girlfriend. _

_I was embarrassed._

_I didn't want your help._

_I didn't want you to see me like this._

Lovino had no clue what the best option was. "I just find it hard to trust anyone. I'm sorry."

"What am I to you?" Antonio asked, the question taking Lovino by surprise and he struggled to think of an answer that wouldn't give away how he really felt.

"I- I don't know," Lovino admitted.

"Aren't we friends?"

"I... suppose we are…"

"Then why can't you trust me?" Antonio demanded.

"I just- I can't trust anyone- after Feli-"

"After Feli what? Did he tell Roma?"

"Yes!" Lovino's shoulders shook. Fuck, he was giving too much away, he should have just kept quiet- but now he couldn't stop.

"And then Roma… when he found us, he said we wouldn't have to be alone anymore… and now he- he won't even speak to me!"

"Lovi.." said Antonio quietly. He reached his hand out and placed it gently on top of Lovino's, but Lovino quickly moved his away.

"D-Don't look at me!" Lovino cried, wiping his eyes furiously, but stopped suddenly when he felt Antonio place an arm around his shoulder and pull him in close to his chest. His hands, of their own accord, crept up Antonio's back and he clung to him like a baby. He started to cry harder; huge, heaving sobs working their way up his throat, and hated himself for it, for showing such weakness in front of Antonio, for not being able to let go.

"It's okay," Antonio whispered. "You don't have to be alone anymore." Silent tears dripped off his cheeks and wet Lovino's hair.

"R-Really?" Lovino sniffed.

Antonio stroked Lovino's hair. "Yeah. Really."

* * *

A foreign buzzing vibrated against Lovino's stomach and he jumped, startled.

"Sorry, that's me," Antonio wiped his eyes and nose on his sleeve and drew back, pulling a slim black smartphone that was buzzing wildly from his shirt pocket. He pressed something on the screen and then held it up to his ear.

"Y-Yeah," he said, trying to sound as if he hadn't just been crying. Lovino gawked at him for a second before quickly rubbing the tears off his cheeks. He turned his head to the wall, trying to look as if he were very interested by a switch on the wall and not listening to Antonio's conversation at all.

"Antonio?" he heard a tinny female voice on the other end. "Where are you? I've been waiting twenty minutes in the snow for you!"

"I'm sorry- I'm at the hospital right now-"

"The hospital?! What happened? Are you okay?" Lovino could hear her voice rise hysterically in pitch.

"No, no, I'm fine," Antonio reassured her hastily. "It's not me. It's Lovino."

There was a pause.

And then: "On my way."

"No need, Ems- I was just leaving anyway," said Antonio, already pulling on his coat, switching his phone into his other hand so he could put his arm through the sleeve and then returning it to the original hand, swinging the other sleeve on.

"Are you sure? Because I can-"

"It's fine. Really," Antonio said, winding a scarf around his neck. "_Will you be okay?" _he mouthed to Lovino.

Lovino nodded, closing his eyes. When he moved his head so fast, his vision jiggled up and down and blurred together, making him nauseous. He waved his hand frivolously, as if to say, 'go.'

"_Thanks," _Antonio mouthed. He left.

"I'm leaving right now. Love you, Emma." His voice carried down the hall along with his distant footsteps.

* * *

Lovino allowed himself to sink down in his bed, inch by inch until he was laying down again, so gingerly that there was only minimal pain in his back.

_Mi amor. Love you, Emma. Mi amor. Love you, Emma. Mi amor. Love you…_

Lovino turned his head and vomited off the side of the bed.

* * *

_Seven hundred people experiencing or at risk of homelessness are killed from hypothermia annually in the United States. Forty-four percent of the nation's homeless are unsheltered._

_It is a very real and dangerous problem that often is not properly addressed. Many shelters, like the one Lovino was staying at, can only foster a person for so long. Others may only be open during the night. _

_Many of the chronic problems faced by the homeless people, including inadequate clothing, malnutrition, and underlying infection, further increase the risk of developing and dying from hypothermia._


	16. A Slip of the Tongue

Antonio knocked on the ajar hospital door before opening it and stepping in. Lovino was slumped over a plastic tray holding, what looked like to Antonio, more plastic.

"Looks disgusting," he commented, pulling up his chair from yesterday and sitting down heavily, his legs spread wide apart.

Lovino poked at the heap of Jell-O with his spoon but didn't pierce it or eat it, instead watching it jiggle.

"They said my stomachs not ready for real food," he said sullenly, poking the Jell-O again. "So it's protein powder and Jell-O for now. Assholes," he added, as an obligatory side word meant to convey his low opinion of the nurses and doctors, which it did well.

"Yeah, well, I brought you something," said Antonio, grinning, and he produced a plastic shopping bag and turned it over, tossing the contents onto Lovino's lap. Out rolled half a dozen red, ripe, tomatoes.

"Tomatoes?" Lovino frowned, picking one up and examining it.

"Except this time you don't have to dress in drag for one," Antonio teased, and Lovino's face flushed instantly with embarrassment and rage.

"You- you-" Lovino spat, but Antonio merely held a tomato up to Lovino's cheek.

"See, and now you look like a tomato, you're so red!" Before Lovino knew what was happening, Antonio had snapped a picture on his mobile phone. He held it out for Lovino to see.

"I think that'll make a nice background, don't you?" he smiled sweetly.

"Go shove a cactus up your piss-hole," Lovino snarled. "And while you're at it, let me borrow your phone." He made a grab for the smartphone but Antonio quickly yanked it out of reach.

"You'd just delete it! And we can't have that, can we?" His green eyes sparkled playfully.

"Give it back!" Lovino cried, trying futilely to catch the phone, but because he was so weak, he might as well have been a baby trying to reach the plastic toys that often dangled above their cribs.

"Never! Muahahaha!" Antonio imitated a fake bad villain laugh, tossing his head back so that his dark curls caught the light. He threw an arm over his face like Dracula, but fell off balance and the chair tipped backwards and then slipped, and he fell clumsily to the floor, one arm still stuck out dramatically above him.

Lovino couldn't stop the laugh from escaping, and with it slipped another. Antonio hauled himself upright and blew the hair off his face. Grinning, he sunk into a low, ostentatious bow, enjoying the sound of Lovino's laughter.

Antonio had only heard Lovino laugh like this once before, and he had an inkling that it was a sound not many others had experienced before. It was a rare occurrence, and that made it all the more special and enchanting. He could fall in love with that laugh, with that voice, with the person it belonged to… that is, of course, if he didn't have an obligation to love Emma and only Emma, he reminded himself.

_Emma and only Emma. _It was a phrase he often found himself chanting in his head whenever he was with Lovino, a futile effort to try to remind himself that Emma was the only person he loved and the only person he ever _would _love.

However, it didn't seem to be convincing both him _and_ Emma: just last night, when he had showed up late to their date, his eyes red and puffy and his cheeks still wet with tears, she had taken him home and tried to comfort him, meaning that they had had sex. And just when he had been about to climax, he had groaned, much to his later embarrassment,

"Oh God, Lovi-" And then caught himself halfway through. Emma hadn't said anything, but the absence of her usually bubbly demeanor, replaced by a sort of tight-lipped, quiet anger, showed that she had heard.

And yet…

After Antonio had seen the blood dripping from Lovino's mouth and into the sink; the shelf toppling down onto him; had carried his limp and seemingly lifeless body in his arms; had placed his mouth over Lovino's bloody one and breathed into him- when he thought back to it later, he could see that it was the most intimate thing a person could do: give someone else air, practically giving them life, resurrecting them from the dead and into your arms again… since then, he had realized how much he really cared about Lovino and how much it affected him to watch Lovino suffer and not be able to do anything about it.

He tried to console himself that he would react that way to anyone suffering- he had had a long history of trying to help people and even animals out without expecting anything in return, but this… this was different. This was _Lovino, _and no matter how many times he muttered the old phrase '_Emma and only Emma' _under his breath, he couldn't deny that he felt something when he was around Lovino that he had never felt with another person before, not even Emma.

And so he laughed, feeling guilt swill around in the back of his head but unable to stop, not now, not ever, not as long as Lovino was around to tempt and entice and allure him without even knowing how beautiful he really was…

* * *

Lovino laughed, his ribs and lungs protesting, screaming, until he couldn't laugh anymore and the pain became too great that he forced himself to think of something boring, like physics class in high school, to calm himself down. His chest heaving, he gulped down air like a fish on land.

"I'm good," he gasped, before Antonio could even ask. Deep breath in. Count to three. Breathe out. Breathe in. Count to three. Breathe out. Repeat as many times as necessary.

Antonio picked his chair back up and restored it to its previous position. Still giggling a bit, he sat down, rubbing the back of his head where it had hit the floor.

"No, but seriously," said Lovino, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes wearily, a pillow supporting his sutured back, "I really do need to borrow your phone."

"Why?"

"I need to call Roma. Tell him I'm coming back."

"Say you're bringing a friend," said Antonio, handing his phone over reluctantly.

Lovino raised an eyebrow. "You're still going on about that?"

"I wasn't lying," Antonio said, looking more determined than ever. "I'm going with you."

Lovino snorted. "Suit yourself," he muttered, obviously thinking Antonio wouldn't actually do such a thing. He busied himself with pressing numbers and then held the phone to his ear warily. Antonio could hear the dialing tone from where he was sitting.

There was a click. And then,

"_Ciao?_" a man's voice rang through.

"_Ciao, nonno_," Lovino said. "_Sono io_. It's me. Lovino."

There was another click and then loose beeping. Lovino took the phone from his ear and stared at the screen.

"I don't believe it," he said. "He hung up on me. That old bastard hung up on me!" Lovino gritted his teeth and gripped the phone tightly, his knuckles white. His fingers slipped on the sides from sweat. He raised his arm, preparing to throw it, but Antonio quickly wrestled it out of Lovino's grasp. He cradled it in his hands before placing it in his pocket and looking back up at Lovino.

"Godammit!" Lovino yelled, but started coughing, blood splattering across the white blanket and sinking into it, spreading across the white and staining it. Antonio quickly grabbed the bedpan to catch the rest.

Lovino leaned back on his pillows, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, but he only succeeded in smearing blood across his cheek.

"I hate this," he choked.

"Your granddad or being sick?"

"Both."

Antonio digested this information for a moment. "Want a cuddle?" he finally suggested.

Lovino wrinkled his nose as if he smelled something nasty. "Why the fuck would I want that?"

"Well.." Antonio scratched his head, "Because you're sick and your life sucks and I'm very squishy and warm and comforting."

Lovino snorted. "No thanks."

"Or you could sit in my lap and I could braid your hair and read you stories!"

"Yeah, good luck braiding this hair." Lovino reached a hand up and patted the back of his head, then frowned.

"It's gotten longer," he murmured distractedly. "I'll have to cut it again."

"You cut your own hair?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"How do you cut the back? It looks all even and smooth. If I tried to do that, I'd probably just stab my neck."

Lovino shrugged and then stopped. Wincing, he held a hand up to his rib and Antonio figured it probably hurt when he did that.

"I've just been cutting it since I was little," he gasped, still massaging his rib.

"Seriously? Your mom didn't just cut it for you?"

A muscle in Lovino's jaw clenched and Antonio wondered if he had said the wrong thing or if it was just the pain.

"She's not… she wasn't the type to do that," he said finally.

"Oh." Antonio decided to not poke the subject further. "Well," he said, in a false, cheery, upbeat tone, "Why don't you eat your tomatoes?"

Lovino narrowed his eyes at Antonio suspiciously before cautiously taking one and rubbing it on his shirt. He took a bite, still looking at Antonio.

"In the meanwhile, I brought something else," said Antonio, grinning. He pulled a book out of his bag and Lovino recognized it as a copy of _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone._

"You were reading it before," Antonio explained, "And I thought you might like to finish it. I could read it to you, if you like. Where were you at?"

"They're bringing Norbert up to the tower," said Lovino. He pronounced Norbert like 'nour-burrrt' and it was so cute that Antonio didn't bother to correct him.

"_Harry and Hermione climbed.." _Antonio opened the book and began to read. Lovino settled back on his pillows and closed his eyes, a faint smile on his lips as he ate his tomato.

* * *

Antonio turned the last page. He looked up. Lovino had fallen asleep, a half-eaten tomato still in his hand. Careful not to wake him, Antonio plucked the tomato out of Lovino's hand and finished it off, not wanting to waste it. He wiped his hands on his jeans and then pulled the covers up over Lovino so he would be warm. He snored softly, a peaceful expression on his face.

Antonio packed up his things and then, almost naturally, by instinct, he kissed Lovino's forehead lightly. Lovino's nose twitched and Antonio worried for a moment that he would wake, but thankfully Lovino slept on.

At last Antonio managed to pull himself away and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

* * *

"You're going to _Italy?!" _Emma exploded, as Antonio shoved shirts into a suitcase.

"I told you already!"

"But term starts in two weeks! You can't afford to miss it!"

"I told you, I'm going, and that's it." Antonio pressed his weight on the suitcase, trying to get it to shut.

"What about school? What about your grades?"

"He needs me, Ems." Antonio gave one final shove and it closed with a snap.

"Yeah? What about _me?" _Emma's voice quivered. "My birthday's in a couple weeks- we were going to drive up to the city together, remember? And then dinner at my parents'? What about that? Are you just gonna miss it?"

"I'll be back by then," said Antonio wearily.

"Even then- why are you doing this?"

"I _told _y-"

"I know what you said!" Emma said shrilly. "But- he's just… just a friend, right? And yet you're going to- to- to fucking _Italy _for him?!"

"I have to."

"You don't _have _to do anything! You could stay here with me!"

"You know I can't do that," said Antonio quietly.

"It seems lately I don't know _shit _about what you're doing- you spend all day at that damn hospital and don't even answer my calls or texts! What do you even _do _there all day? Each other?!"

"I just read to him!" Antonio swiveled around angrily. "I don't know why you're getting so upset- I'd do the same for you!"

"Exactly! You'd do the same for me, because you _love _me! So why are you doing all this- and more- for some random kid who made you coffee? What is he, to you?"

"He's just my friend," said Antonio, pressing a hand to his temples tiredly.

"Yeah? Then why'd you say his name the other night?!"

"I didn't- I don't know what you're talking about," Antonio said quickly.

"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about!"

"I- that was a mistake! Just a mistake!"

"How many more mistakes will you have to make? When will you realize that- that- that you love him more than you ever loved me?!" Her eyes filled with tears.

"Th- That's not true and you know it!" shot back Antonio. Emma gave a sob and tears spilled over her cheeks.

"Oh god, Ems, I'm sorry," gushed Antonio, holding out his arms for Emma. She rushed into them, crying into his chest as Antonio held her tight, his lips pressed to the top of her head in a silent kiss.

"I- I know," she sobbed, her voice muffled. "But I can't help thinking it."

_Me too, _Antonio almost said, but stopped himself. As he held her, feeling her chest heaving against his, he couldn't stop himself from thinking it too.

Was what she had accused him of really true? And if so, what then?

* * *

_Hello, Liesel here. I just want to add some explanation. I base the characters and their backgrounds mainly on their history, so here's a little history lesson as to why Lovino is so poor when Feliciano is so well off, and Roma's bias for Feliciano, etc._

_Basically, the southern part of Italy has always been the poor, farming area. There are some big cities, but are nothing like the ones in the more northern part. In addition, the north and it's numerous cities have always been the center of culture and the arts, wealth and sophistication, whereas the rural South is more just farms, maybe some tourism but not much, and more farms. The Italian Renaissance took place in Northern Italy, particularly Florence, while the South stayed un-cultured and unwealthy. That's why I have Lovino as poor, but hard-working, because that is what the South is like. I wrote Feliciano as indulgent, educated, talented, and perhaps a little lazy, because I think that reflects the spirit of the North._

_Also, since the North had more cities, which meant more people, which meant a greater variety of people, which meant more freedom for cultural, sexual, and artistic expression, I have Feliciano written as accepting of his (bi)sexuality. The South, being rural farming country, is more sparsely populated, meaning more narrow-minded people and less room for individualist expression; so I had Lovino struggle with his (homo)sexuality._

_One of the main reasons the Italian Renaissance happened in North Italy is because of it's placement over/near Rome. They uncovered many Roman artifacts, including sculptures and art in a more realistic style, prompting the North Italian artists to add more secular basis to their paintings. Beforehand, as you can see in many Middle Ages art, the purpose of the painting was not necessarily to convey human body or landscapes accurately, it was to show the glory of Gd, and as humans/landscapes/backgrounds/etc. were no comparison to Gd, they were overlooked in the cause of religion. However, inspired by the realistic Greek and Roman figures/statures and their newfound cultural heritage, combined with the inventions of canvas, oil paints, and the printing press, they began painting from a more secular, realistic approach._

_Thus Rome indirectly nurtured the Italian Renaissance, while the South remained poor, so this is why I have Feliciano written as Roma's favorite, in addition to the actual Hetalia comics/anime, where Lovino/S. Italy reflects upon how Feliciano was always better/smarter/more loved than him._

_I hope this provides some insight into my reasoning._

_Thank you for reading._


	17. Sheepies and Cowsies and Horsies

Antonio visited Lovino almost every day until he was released from the hospital a week and a half later. He was still quite sick, but he was taking up a bed which someone else needed, so grudgingly, they checked out of the hospital.

"Are you _sure _you're feeling okay?" Antonio asked Lovino for the eighth time as they trudged through the thick layers of snow coating the ground. Lovino grunted through his many layers of clothes; Antonio had showed up on his release day with a coat, two sweaters, a scarf, a hat, gloves, three pairs of socks, and his old pair of boots.

"What was that?" Antonio tilted his head towards Lovino.

Lovino pulled his scarf down off his face with a scowl. "I'm-" he broke off to cough, doubling over, his hands on his knees. Antonio placed a hand on his back as he coughed, watching nervously.

"I'm fine," Lovino finished.

"Are you sure? Like, 100% sure? 110% sure? I could call a cab-"

"For fuck's sake, Antonio, I'm fine!" Lovino straightened up, forcing Antonio's hand off of him.

"Really? How are your ribs? Your back? Does your chest still hurt?"

"Can we just go? I'm freezing my ass off!"

"You're cold?! Do you need my coat? I brought an extra scarf- just a minute.."

"Oh my god," Lovino groaned, starting to walk ahead. At the sound of Lovino's footsteps crunching on the snow, Antonio looked up from his bag.

"W-Wait for me!" he called, hopping after Lovino one-footed, for one boot had gotten stuck in the snow. Lovino trod a few more paces and then stopped. He crossed his arms, looked down at the ground, sighed, and then turned around and helped Antonio get his shoe back on.

"Alright, are we good?" he asked irritably, in the manner of a parent who has grown tired of their child's whining. "I don't want to be late."

"I know, I'm sorry…"

They continued walking, heads down, hands in their pockets, marching through the thick snow. The walk to the airport was just a little under a mile now, but it was hard work wading through the snow in heavy, sodden clothes.

The sound of Lovino's labored, heavy breathing mixed with the wind and it was a while before Antonio realized he couldn't hear it anymore.

Panicked, he looked around and spotted Lovino about twenty or so feet behind him, bent over, one hand on a knee, the other grabbing onto the ledge of the window of a nearby building, holding him up. As Antonio approached him, he could hear a loud, whistling, wheezing noise coming from Lovino. His coughing sounded like coins rattling in a vending machine and Antonio ran as best he could towards Lovino in the knee-deep snow.

"Lovi!" he yelled, but the wind stole his voice. Finally he made it to Lovino, just as Lovino's gloved hand, which had been clutching the ledge for support, slipped. His body went weak and he fell, almost straight into the snow, but Antonio rushed forward in a surge of adrenaline and caught him.

"I really think this is too much for you," he berated Lovino, but received no answer. Keeping a strong hold on Lovino, he pulled him away in front of him and attempted to stand him up, but Lovino's legs wobbled as if they were made of jelly and he collapsed again. Lovino coughed and choked and hacked and wheezed and gasped and panted but couldn't seem to be able to regain his breath.

"They said this might happen," Antonio warned. "Hypothermia can leave lasting effects, remember? And the mold isn't completely gone yet."

"I'm- fine-" Lovino wheezed.

"No you're not!" said Antonio, pressing his hand to Lovino's sweaty forehead. "See, you've still got a fever. I don't care what the doctors say, I'm taking you back to the hospital."

"I can't-" Lovino broke off for air and then continued, "I can't miss the- the f-"

Antonio considered that for a moment. It was true he couldn't miss the flight; it had been scheduled for him and if he did, he'd have to deal with the government, which would not be pleasant. Lovino hadn't even been conscious when the Immigration Court had ordered him deported.

"Fine," Antonio grumbled, obviously not happy about it. "But you have to tell me if it gets too much." He stuck out a hand to help Lovino up.

Embarrassed, Lovino took it, still coughing, and Antonio hauled him roughly to his feet, but he was still weak and somehow ended up pressed up against Antonio with Antonio's arms around him, holding him up.

"Why don't I carry you the rest of the way?" Antonio offered.

Lovino was too exhausted to protest or even be embarrassed, and clambered onto Antonio's back like a child.

"Alright, here we go," said Antonio, and stood up, hooking his arms under Lovino's legs to support him. Lovino put his arms around Antonio's neck, feeling his face grow warm but embarrassment, but he was too tired to care. It was a nice feeling, being on Antonio's back, feeling his muscles ripple under his stomach, soaking up the warmth that emanated from him. Lovino only hoped that Antonio wasn't able to feel how fast his heart was beating, but if he did, he didn't comment, just continued plowing forward through the snow.

Lovino rested his cheek on Antonio's shoulder bone. He drunk in the scent of Antonio, closing his eyes satisfactorily.

_Maybe being sick isn't so bad, _he thought.

* * *

Antonio stopped suddenly, forcing Lovino to open his eyes reluctantly.

"We're here," said Antonio, and as he spoke his vocal cords and chest vibrated under Lovino. Antonio crouched down and Lovino slid off. Antonio handed him his bag.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice full of concern. "Can you walk?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," said Lovino.

Together they made their way through the airport. Antonio had to stop sometimes and wait for Lovino, but they managed to get to the plane in time.

They boarded together, and Antonio let Lovino take the window seat. Lovino's hands were shaking and he was very jumpy, on edge. Antonio wondered briefly if he was just ill or scared of flying, but when the plane started to take off, Lovino was clenching the seat so tightly his knuckles were white.

"You okay?" Antonio shouted over the noise, but Lovino just gritted his teeth, his eyes squeezed shut. His face was slightly green.

Finally they got into the air and the plane steadied out, but Lovino still stubbornly grasped the seat rests.

"Lovi, it's okay," Antonio tried to reassure him. "The plane isn't going to crash or anything." But as soon as he said the word 'crash,' Lovino took a sharp breath and clutched at his cross hanging around his neck, one hand still on the seat rest. Lovino's lips moved soundlessly, and Antonio realized that he was praying wildly, his voice barely audible over the plane's roar.

A middle-aged woman stopped past them as she made her way up the aisle.

"Nervous flier?" she asked, smiling slightly. She was rather round, but in a pleasant gathered, plump, way, as if her excess weight were a favorite shirt or scarf.

"Yeah." Antonio smiled back at her.

"You two are so cute," she said. Antonio's smile dropped and he looked quickly at Lovino, hoping he hadn't heard, for fear of him going into a murderous rampage, but he was so absorbed in his praying it didn't seem he had even noticed the large woman standing beside them. When Antonio turned his head, she was gone.

Slightly perturbed, Antonio settled back in his seat and opened up his book. However, to his annoyance, he found he couldn't concentrate; Lovino's incessant praying was bothering him.

He tapped Lovino on the shoulder gently. Lovino looked up, but continued muttering under his breath.

"Could you maybe… you know.. take a break?" Antonio suggested mildly.

"Good idea," said Lovino, to Antonio's surprise. "You can take over for a while."

"W-What?"

"You can pray for a while, I'm getting tired," Lovino explained.

Antonio breathed a tiny laugh and shook his head. "No- you don't have to pray, Lovi, it's fine. I'm sure the pilot has it under control."

"We're in a giant metal bird- what do you think is keeping it up? Air?! If I don't do this, we all die!" Lovino gestured wildly, nearly knocking the book out of Antonio's hand. It was obvious he was very stressed.

"No, actually, air _is_ holding us up, along with propulsion and the engines," Antonio explained.

"Yeah, right," Lovino scoffed. "Air. _That's _what's holding us up."

Antonio blinked. "D-Didn't you take physics?"

"I slept through it. And all my other classes. I told you, I dropped out." Lovino yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth with his hand.

"Why?"

"Roma was too old to work, so I started working full-time instead of just part-time. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a plane to fly." Lovino turned his head sharply, crossed his arms, and resumed his prayers.

Antonio watched him for a moment, stunned but also, somehow, cheerful. That answer was so sarcastic and brusque and just so… Lovino, that it joyed him. Lovino opened one eye, peering at Antonio.

"Stop looking at me!" he complained. "I can't concentrate when you look at me like that."

"Sorry, I just.." Antonio scratched the back of his neck, a little embarrassed. However, Lovino seemed to be feeling the same, a rosy color that hadn't been there before tinting his cheeks as he stared determinedly at the gray, mundane wall of the plane.

Antonio buried his face in his book, but couldn't resist looking up every few minutes to watch Lovino, and then quickly hide his wandering eyes with the novel whenever Lovino moved.

For the fifth time, Antonio looked up, only to see Lovino staring back at him. Lovino's face flooded with color as their eyes connected, and he looked down, ashamed, but Antonio was just as embarrassed as him.

"Sorry," he said quickly, but just then, the plane seemed to have hit a bump in the air and as Antonio was buffeted an inch or so off his seat, he heard a shriek and then felt a pain in his arm. He looked down, the plane still practically vibrating. Lovino was clutching his arm, terrified.

"Shit, Lovi, it's okay," Antonio tried to ease him, but the plane jolted forward again. Lovino squeezed his arm tighter. Antonio could vaguely hear him whispering "oh God oh God oh God."

"You gotta pray," Lovino said breathily, still clawing Antonio's arm for comfort. "Just me isn't enough."

The intercom turned on and they could hear the pilot breathing for a second before, "We are experiencing some turbulence. Please stay in your seats."

"See?" said Antonio. "Turbulence. Not an act of god. You're fine."

"Don't say that, you'll make him angry!" The plane lurched again. Lovino's nails dug into Antonio's skin even through his sweater. He looked down and realized that he was holding onto Antonio.

"G-Get off me!" Lovino cried, seemingly coming to his senses. He shoved Antonio away.

"Wha- you were the one that was clinging to me!"

"Do you smell that? It's the stench of _lies." _

The plane jolted and Antonio found himself shouting out as well as Lovino. They clutched at each other desperately.

"S-See," said Lovino shakily, but accusingly, "You're scared too."

"Yeah, but-" protested Antonio, his teeth chattering. "But it's _scary!"_

"So get your act together and f-fucking pray, you beanpole! Or else we die right now!"

"We're not goi-" Antonio started, but the plane gave another jerk upwards and he felt himself being lifted off his seat a couple inches, restrained by the seat belt, and then fell back down onto the chair.

"Okay, fine, I'll pray," he said quickly. "Dear, um, Jesus," he started, feeling stupid.

"You can't just say 'Jesus!' That's impolite! Use more respect or else he gonna kill us right now."

"Dear, uh… Mr. Jesus..?" Antonio corrected. "Is that okay?"

There was a pause. The fact that Lovino was seriously considering this made Antonio smile weakly.

"Yeah. Better," Lovino mumbled.

"Okay… Mr. Jesus, please don't kill us? And fly this plane? So we don't die… and stuff?"

"I'd slap you, but I don't want to get stupid on my hand," Lovino muttered.

"I heard that!" Antonio admonished, but he wasn't angry.

"So you _can_ hear, dumbfuck."

"I'm not a dumbfuck!"

"You're the dumbfuckiest dumbfuck to have ever dumbfucked, you dumbfuck. If you pulled your head out your ass and maybe looked around, you'd be amazed what you can see."

"What did I ever do to deserve this?" Antonio raised his eyebrows mockingly.

"Being born, for starters. Now let go of me, creepmonger."

"You were the one-" Antonio said, but Lovino had extricated himself from Antonio and it was only when Lovino tore his hand off his back that he realized he had been holding Lovino tightly as well, instinctively.

"I- sorry.." he mumbled, looking at his hand, confused. By the time he looked up, shaken out of his trance, Lovino was back in his own seat praying. The plane had steadied out and there was no more turbulence. Antonio picked his book up off the floor of the plane and began to read, vaguely hearing the soft hiss of Lovino's whisper-breath as he prayed.

* * *

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the plane landed with a bump. Antonio escorted Lovino, who had a slight case of jelly-legs after the long flight, off the plane. Lovino wordlessly led him through customs and Antonio waited as he met with the immigration officers. They got on a bus and rode for two, maybe three hours. Lovino stared mournfully out the windows, ignoring Antonio as he relentlessly badgered Lovino with questions about the passing scenery.

"What's that? The sign says 'supermercato,' does that mean supermarket? Oh, and that building next to it- there's this symbol- oh wait, no, it's Chinese, sorry, nevermind.."

"Shut up," Lovino grumbled. "You're annoying me worse than my brother."

"I can't help being excited, I've never been to Italy before! And it's not as if you're doing anything anyway."

"Unlike a certain idiot, I am actually capable of thinking with my mouth closed, so yes, I am doing something, and you're interrupting me. So shut up before I castrate you." Lovino closed his eyes wearily and leaned his head against the cold window, his arms crossed.

"Watch yourself, or you'll burst a blood vessel," Antonio mocked.

"Shush," Lovino commanded, lightly smacking Antonio's cheek with the back of his hand.

"As you wish," said Antonio impudently. But he found it hard to keep his mouth shut, with so many interesting sights passing outside his window. As they passed a farm, he recalled an old Marlowe poem he had memorized in high school.

"_Come live with me, and be my love;" _he recited. "_And we will all the pleasures prove That hills and valleys, dales and fields, Woods, or steepy mountain yields."_

"The fuck does that mean?" Lovino interrupted.

"It's a poem. 'The Passionate Shepherd to His Love.'"

"And?"

"And what?"

"Why are you all of a sudden blurting this out?"

"The scenery just.. reminded me of it, I guess. It's about the beauty of the countryside," explained Antonio.

"Sure, whatever," Lovino snorted. "Just keep quiet."

"Don't you want to listen to the rest?" And then, before Lovino could answer, Antonio continued, "Here's some more:

'_And we will sit upon the rocks, Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals.'"_

"I have no idea what you're talking about," huffed Lovino, tossing his head angrily, his hair rising up and catching the light before settling back down across his forehead. He impatiently brushed it away from his eyes. Antonio found this whole act mesmerizing and he momentarily forgot the rest of the poem as the image of Lovino, bathed in golden-brown sunset-light, his skin and hair and eyes gleaming in the light, every gorgeous pore illuminated and highlighted to perfection, burned into his retinas.

"What?" Lovino snapped, jarring Antonio out of his reverie.

"Sorry, you just- you look pretty in the light like that," said Antonio before he had even realized; that same contradictory feeling of being tongue-tied yet unable to shut up when he should hitting him just as hard as it had been the first time he walked into the coffee shop and say Lovino- bored, irritated, and so mind-bogglingy beautiful it should be illegal.

"Yeah, well, you- you look nice too," Lovino shot back as if it were an insult, his face red. "I- I mean, nicer than usual, which isn't saying much, since you usually look as if you were spawned from a trash can," he corrected himself.

"Right," Antonio said casually, but he couldn't stop himself from smiling so wide his cheeks hurt.

"How- How does the poem end?" Lovino mumbled embarrassedly, his face turned away. His ears were red. "I'm just bored, you know, and that's why I'm asking," he added quickly. "Otherwise I wouldn't be interested."

"Of course." said Antonio lightly. "Let's see, it's… ah, yes. '_And I will make thee beds of roses, And a thousand fragrant posies; A cap of flowers, and a kirtle-"_

"What the hell is a _kirtle_?!"

"It's a type of skirt, I think. Anyway: '_A cap of flowers, and a kirtle Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle- _that's a sort of plant I think," Antonio said quickly, before Lovino could ask. "'_A gown made of the finest wool Which from our pretty lambs we pull; Fair-lined slippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold;"_

"_A belt of straw and ivy-buds, With coral clasps and amber studs; And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me, and be my love."_

"_The shepherd-swains shall dance and sing For thy delight each May morning; If these delights thy mind may move, Then live with me, and be my love."_  
"Huh." said Lovino slowly, digesting that information.

"Good, right?"

"A bed of roses would be pretty uncomfortable, as would a hat and skirt made from flowers. And impractical, they would just die and then you'd be naked."

"A good point."

"It's completely inaccurate. Farms aren't that easy."

"Oh, yeah, you lived on a farm, right? One with all the little sheepies and cowsies and horsies?"

"Sheepies?" repeated Lovino sarcastically, his nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Yeah! When I was little, I always wanted to live on a farm and get up early and ride horses bareback through the wilderness and milk cows and herd sheep and feed chickens and.."

"It wasn't that kind of farm," Lovino said sharply. "No animals."

"Then what kind was it?"

Lovino rested his head against the window, his cheek to the glass. "You'll see," he said eventually, his face turned away from Antonio so he couldn't read his expression.


	18. Finocchio

After two more hours of meandering chatter punctuated by Lovino insulting or swearing periodically at Antonio, he finally gathered the gall to say,

"Where actually are we going?"

"A little ways from of Palma Campania. The vineyards are there, but the bus stops at Palma Campania, so we'll have to walk the extra three miles."

"Wha- three miles?! Are you sure you can do that? I don't think even I can carry you that far."

"Its fine. It's not that cold down here in winter anyway, and I'm used to the trip."

"Really? That's-" Antonio didn't get the chance to finish his sentence, for the driver's voice rang through. It was too fast for Antonio to properly understand, but Lovino stood up and took his duffel bag down from the rack above their seats.

"This is the last stop," he told Antonio.

"Oh- right." They departed the small bus together, Lovino said something to the driver but once again it was too fast for Antonio to hear.

"What did you say to him?" he asked. The small rocks of the gravel road crunched under his feet as he walked.

"I said thanks."

"And how do you say that?"

"_Grazie."_

"Bless you," said Antonio automatically.

"No, idiot- that's how you say thank you."

"Bless you?"

"I feel sorry for your mother, having to live with the fact that she birthed an imbecile."

"I don't get it."

"Of course you don't," grumbled Lovino.

"But.. what is thank you in Italian?"

"_Grazie. _That's it. Not a sneeze."

"Like _gracias!" _Antonio realized.

"Yeah. Like _gracias." _They continued in silence for a while, stopping occasionally so Lovino could catch his breath, until they reached a small dirt path curving out of the main road. The smell of grapes and sweat permeated the air. As they ambled down it, Lovino in the lead, the smell grew stronger. Finally they reached what seemed to be a sort of clearing, and as Antonio stepped out into it, he felt his jaw drop. At first he thought it must be a graveyard, because all he could see were white pickets. Upon closer inspection, he realized that they were indeed pickets, but not for marking spots of the dead's final rest; no, these were for holding up grapes. Coiled around each one were small, practically sproutling vines, and the beginnings of buds of grapes, little spots of purple. Green twine tied the vines loosely to the pickets.

"The processing plant is a couple miles away so the waste doesn't damage the crops," Lovino explained quietly, making Antonio jump in the still silence.

"I- I see."

"I told you it wasn't that kind of farm," Lovino said, his voice barely audible. His cheeks were tinged with embarrassment.

"No, no- it's fine! Really." Antonio managed a weak smile. The word 'farm' had always been synonymous with cute animals and mud and plants to him, and even though he knew there had had to be manufacturing farms for grapes and such products, he hadn't expected Lovino to work on one, let alone be a sharecropper.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It's great. Even though there's no sheepies or cowsies or horsies." This time Antonio really did smile. Lovino turned his head, but the corners of his lips tugged upwards and it was visible that he was secretly pleased.

"We live a bit further down. There's housing provided for the workers." Lovino pointed past the hill to their left.

Without any warning, he started to walk forward in the direction he had pointed. Antonio gaped at the spectacle in front of him and then quickly, noticing he was being left behind, jogged ahead to catch up with Lovino. As they walked, Lovino would occasionally point out various things to Antonio: "This is where we grow the white wine grapes;" "The more skin the better the taste, so we grow some of our grapes in harsh conditions so that they are smaller and have more of the skin." It was very interesting, but Antonio couldn't help letting his mind wander briefly, focusing instead on Lovino's hips, his long, lilting gait, his thin legs and straight back.

All of a sudden Lovino stopped in front of a gate and Antonio, unaware, almost bumped into him but caught himself right before.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," Lovino replied, but Antonio could see his hands were clenched into fists. He took a deep breath, lowered his head, unclenched and the re-clenched his fists nervously, and then took a step past the gate.

There were infinitely more pickets than there had been before, and at least double that number in men, hunched over and systematically tying baby vines to pickets. Lovino took a couple more steps before a yell was plaintively heard:

"Hey, look, it's Little Vargas!" The hundreds of heads turned up and began to laugh. One of them stuck his tongue in the corner of his mouth to make his cheek bulge out, and then placed his hand in a fist at the opposite end of the imaginary bump, moving his head back and forward in a fashion that imitated sucking a dick. Another turned around and bent over, smacking his ass.

"Does this get you off, Little Vargas?" he jeered. Antonio couldn't understand what they were saying, but from their actions and obscene gestures, he was pretty sure he knew.

Fields full of men fell about in laughter, clutching their stomachs and leaning on their friends for support. A few continued their work, giving the men who were teasing Lovino dirty looks, but said nothing.

Lovino kept walking, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white, his face burning red. His movements were hurried and disjointed, as if he were restraining himself, which, Antonio figured, he probably was.

"Who's that with you? Your _boyfriend?" _one sneered.

"Faggot!"

"Stay away from my son!"

"Cocksucker!"

One grabbed his crotch, screaming, "You like this? You like this?"

"Hey, Little Vargas," yelled the one who had told everyone else of Lovino's presence, "What are you doing here? I thought even Old-Man Roma didn't want you anymore, just like your mother!"

Lovino stiffened, trembling. Antonio had only recognized the word 'mother,' but that was enough. Lovino rotated around on his heel slowly and started towards them.

"What'cha gonna do, suck my dick?!" the man yelled. Lovino snarled and increased his speed, but Antonio grabbed him before he got close and hauled him away.

"Just don't listen to-" Antonio began to say, but Lovino grabbed Antonio's arm and peeled it off of him.

"Don't fucking touch me!" he screamed. The workers watching made jeering noises, laughing.

"Got a little lover's quarrel there, Little Vargas?" one called, chortling. Lovino's lip curled and he made a move as if he were about to take a step.

"Lovi-" Antonio placed a hand on Lovino's shoulder but he swiveled around and shoved Antonio with more strength than Antonio had expected. Antonio stumbled backwards a couple steps and then fell on his butt. Lovino charged forward until he was practically nose-to-nose with the man who had instigated the whole ordeal.

Antonio scrambled to his feet, hurrying towards Lovino as best he could, hoping he could stop the fight before anyone got hurt. The man muttered something. Lovino replied, and the crowd who had formed a circle around him, preventing him from possibly escaping, began to laugh. The man didn't seem to find his reply so funny and he stood there for a moment, making a peculiar movement with his mouth that Antonio didn't understand until he drew back and spat on Lovino.

It hit him square in the face, between his eyes. Lovino made no move to wipe it off. In fact, he didn't move at all, and Antonio remembered in a flash the moments before he had bitten that kid's dick off.

Lovino hawked, and then spat back at the man. It was bloody, and the crowd drew back, startled.

"The hell…?" The man felt the bloody saliva on his face with his finger, not understanding the crowd's reaction. He held his finger up in front of his face and his eyes went wide.

"Wha- What the fuck is wrong with you?" he choked, fear now clouding over the anger.

Lovino smiled, his lips and teeth coated in red. "AIDS," he said casually.

The man gave a little squeak and Lovino took a step closer.

"That's right," he said. "AIDS." All Antonio caught was the word 'AIDS,' but that was all he needed.

"You know how it's passed?" Lovino continued. The man stared at him, blank faced, trembling a little.

"B-Blood?" he stammered.

"Correct. Blood. Now what's that on your face?"

"I- I-" The man gaped at the little spot of blood on his finger. He managed to take a breath before he fainted. One man from the circle surrounding them rushed forward and caught him, looking reproachfully at Lovino.

"Get the hell out of here," he growled. Lovino shrugged and turned away, loping casually over to Antonio. He was almost to Antonio when a man in a dirty wifebeater that had once been white, with yellow-gray sweat stains under the armpits, hurled a rock at Lovino. It hit him at the back of his head, throwing Lovino off balance. He wobbled for a moment and then fell to the ground.

"Lovino!" Antonio yelled, running towards his limp body. For a minute Antonio worried he was unconscious, but Lovino crawled forward a couple inches and then picked himself up, coughing.

"OhmygodLoviareyouokay-" gasped Antonio, but Lovino cut him off.

"C'mon," he mumbled. "Let's get out of here." He nodded over his shoulder and Antonio saw the horde of people glaring, some cracking their knuckles or picking up rocks, obviously debating the pros and cons of starting another fight with Lovino.

"O-Okay," replied Antonio warily, still a little unsettled. Lovino led him past the field and into another division where some of the workers gave the two of them odd or disapproving looks but said nothing.

"What the hell was that?" panted Antonio, jogging slightly to keep up with Lovino, who was walking as fast as he possibly could without actually running.

"That was the division where I worked," he said, his breath thin as well.

"Why do they…" Antonio was afraid to finish the question, worried he might offend Lovino.

"Hate me so much?" suggested Lovino, smiling wryly and without humor. He took Antonio's silence as his answer.

Lovino shrugged, thankfully slowing down now that they were a while away from the field. Gratefully Antonio halted as well.

"Hell if I know."

Antonio got the feeling Lovino was hiding something from him, but decided that now wasn't the time to pry.

Lovino shook his head, as if to convince himself of something, then hoisted his duffel bag back over his shoulder, one hand on the strap, the other in his pocket.

"Let's go."

Antonio followed.

* * *

They reached a row of squat wooden blocks three stories tall, and it was only when Antonio noticed the tiny, smoky, porthole-like windows embedded in it like many eyes, he realized that each of the buildings were apartment complexes.

"We live in B," said Lovino, walking past the first row. Leaning dangerously out a window on the third floor was a young woman with her hair pulled back in a patterned kerchief, a few wanton curls sprung loose from its folds. She was smoking a cigarette with the air of a sophisticated socialite, and the bright red of her lipstick clashed against her dark skin and tattooed her cigarette. A dirty gray nightshirt sagged dangerously low over her chest, and the neon pink zebra pattern of her bra was vaguely visible. She blew Antonio a kiss when she saw him staring.

"Hurry up," groaned Lovino, his face tinged red with embarrassment.

"Sorry," apologized Antonio, accidentally treading on Lovino's heel in his attempt to catch up to his rapid pace.

"Watch it!" snapped Lovino. They passed another row of apartments. Antonio watched a toddler clamber onto a windowsill, his tongue stuck out in effort, and he turned, panicked, to Lovino.

"That kid-" he pointed up at the windowsill, but just then an old woman, her hair in curlers and such a shade of silver that it looked almost blue, grabbed him and pulled him back, tutting,

"_Femare che_, Guido."

From inside the apartment, a distant wail could be heard:

"_Voglio essere un uccellino!_ I wanna be a birdie!"

They passed many more interesting sights until Lovino stopped in front of one of the apartment buildings. It was square, squat, stained a dark brown, unremarkable, and completely indistinguishable from the others apart from a large, rusted 'B' hanging over the doorway. The door was open.

Antonio followed Lovino up an incredibly claustrophobic-inducing set of narrow stairs barely wide enough to fit his shoulders. On the third floor landing they stopped.

The accompanying hallway was barely wider and was noticeably dirtier, darker, and mustier than the staircase had been. There were three old-fashioned lights jutting out of the wall, one of which was not functioning, the other two so dim that they did little to improve the lighting of the place. Antonio was amazed Lovino was even able to tell which of the many doors led to his apartment.

Lovino knocked on a door. The noise was hollow and echoed off the thin walls with the peeling wallpaper patterned with faded posies, off the dim lights upon which the corpses of dead insects could be seen gathered around the base where the lightbulb was contained, off the rotting wood doors with the foul odor of decay.

_"Nonno!"_ he called, knocking more. "Roma! I'm here!"

There was no answer.

"I know you're in there," yelled Lovino in Italian, knocking more fervently.

"Do you think he's alright?" fretted Antonio.

"Yeah, I'm sure he is," grumbled Lovino, although he didn't sound so sure himself. "Just doesn't want to let me in, the old bastard."

He kicked the door lightly.

"Roma!" After a couple seconds of bated breath resulting in only silence, a weak voice was audible through the wood.

"Go away! I told you not to come back!"

"If you don't let me in, I'll break the door down!"

It was quiet for a moment, but then: "You wouldn't dare!"

"Wanna test me?!" Lovino kicked the door again, not hard enough to break it down, but enough to make his point.

_"Bene, bene,"_ Roma muttered, disgruntled, and then they could hear the clack of the lock being turned.

Lovino swung the door open, only to be faced with darkness. He stepped in.

"Why you got it all dark?" he complained.

"To save electricity."

Lovino groaned and pulled on a chain, lighting the room so that Antonio could now see.

It was much smaller than he had expected. To the left of the room were three doorways, one of which was open, the edge of a dirty toilet exposed to view. The right side of the room was separated by a small counter, oven, and stove, and against the wall opposite the counter was a fridge and a sink, and above them, many cupboards. On the other side of the counter, away from the kitchenette, were three tired couches arranged in a semicircle around a very old television; the sort that was large and square and you could see little lines and squiggles on the screen if you got too close.

"Who's this?" barked Roma, pointing a trembling finger at Antonio. He was weathered and old, very old. His skin seemed to be made entirely of wrinkles and veins and age spots, and he was in a wheelchair, an IV attached to it and his forearm. His feet were bare and his toenails were yellow and cracked and unclipped, so long that they curved around. His beard was white.

Tentatively Antonio stepped into the room. Now that he was in it, he could see more: the crack in the wall, covered with duct tape; the makeshift cardboard shutters for the window, the dirty dishes piled in the sink, many so old that they had mold on them. The room smelled like dust and pee and mold, and for the umpteenth time, Antonio worried about Lovino's lungs.

However, Lovino didn't seem to share that same fear, and was instead fussing over Roma.

"Look at the state of this place! Did you hire that nurse like I told you too? Was the money enough?"

Roma didn't answer, keeping his lips tightly pressed together, his face turned away from Lovino, contorted in a look of disgust.

"You've lost weight- too much weight," fretted Lovino. "And look at your clothes- I told you you should get some new ones, this shirt has still got blood stains on it from that time Feli scraped his knee in Year Three… You did hire the nurse, right?"

"Why'dyou come back?" Roma asked quietly, throwing Lovino off guard.

"I- well- I had to," concluded Lovino lamely.

"My memory's not too good these days, but I remember telling you to not come back. So what're you doing here? And who the hell is he?!"

"His name's Antonio." At the sound of his name, Antonio looked up.

"Yes, I'm Antonio. _Lieto di vederla."_ he extended his hand for Roma to shake.

Roma looked from Antonio to Lovino and then back again. "Who's this _finocchio?"_ he barked.

"What's a _finocchio?"_ Antonio whispered to Lovino, flipping through his Italian phrase book.

"He called you a faggot," explained Lovino through the side of his mouth, a corner of his lips tugged upwards in mockery of Antonio.

"Oh."

Lovino turned back to Roma and they began to talk again, gesticulating immensely. Slightly intimidated, Antonio edged over to the sink, intending to wash the massive pile of moldy, slimy dishes so that Lovino wouldn't get mold in his lungs again, although from all the visible dry rot and cracks and water damage, it probably wouldn't do much change.

He turned the faucet. There was a rumble, but no water came out. He turned the nob further to the right. There was a splutter, and thick brown water shot out of the faucet at such high pressure it might as well have been a sprinkler, wetting Antonio's shirt with specks of dirty liquid.

Lovino and Roma looked up from their conversation.

"The fuck you doing?" Lovino yelled. Someone in the flat next to them banged on the wall and yelled something that was most likely 'shut up.'

"W-Washing the dishes," Antonio croaked nervously. The sink gave another clanging noise and Lovino's eyes flitted away from Antonio for a moment to the sink and then back again.

"What'dyou do to it?" he asked.

"Nothing, it just- was like this.."

Lovino groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Turn it off," he commanded, marching over to the sink and opening up the cabinet underneath it. He threw aside the scattered sponges and soaps and grabbed a flashlight and a toolbox. He crouched down and stuck his head and shoulders into the cupboard, his butt sticking out. He fiddled around under there for a moment while Antonio enjoyed the view.

Roma said something and Lovino withdrew himself from the cabinet.

"Were you looking at my ass?" he accused Antonio.

"Wha- me? No!"

Lovino turned to Roma and asked something in Italian. Roma replied.

"He says you were looking at my ass," Lovino snarled.

"He must be, uh, mistaken," appeased Antonio, giving a small pleading smile towards the old man. Roma made an obscene gesture. Antonio's smile fell.

He heard several clunks and bangs, and then Lovino pulled himself out of the cabinet.

"Try the sink now," he panted, hot and sweaty from being inside the cabinet. He wiped his hair off his forehead, but several strands still stuck to his skin, dark and wet.

Antonio turned the faucet. There were a couple splutters, and then it started working, brown at first but then it thinned out into clear water that he could only hope was sanitary.

"Nice job," Antonio attempted to compliment Lovino, but he just waved him off, going back to Roma.

As if there had been no interruption, the two of them continued their argument. Every now and then, as he scrubbed at the dishes, Antonio picked up some words: the ever-present _finocchio_, in addition to _nonno, soldi, la salute,_ and _infermiera,_ nurse.

_"Fidanzato?!"_ Roma accused, directing a shaking hand towards Antonio.

"No, no. Just a friend."

Antonio finished washing the dishes and laid them on a rack to dry. He wiped his hands on his shirt and headed over to the two of them, still bickering. As he approached, they both grew quiet and looked at him silently, alienating him. They didn't resume their conversation until Antonio had held his hands up in a surrendering pose and backed away, as if they were worried he would overhear even though he could barely understand what they were saying.

Antonio seated himself on one of the couches. They were all mismatched and of varying sizes and dilapidation. The one he was on was a dark green scratchy fabric, and as he sat down he practically fell into it, it was so squashy. The rest of the couch underneath him curved in a concave fashion as it gave way to his weight. Under his right hand several pieces of duct tape were placed over a rip in the cushion. In other areas, little cotton balls of stuffing poked up from tears in the fabric. Antonio pulled his phrasebook out of his pocket and flipped to a random page.

It struck him after a couple minutes of skimming the page that it had become strangely quiet. In fact, Roma's was the only voice in the room.

"How's Feliciano?" he asked.

"Fine," Lovino replied, his eyes slanting away.

"Is his art going well? Does he like America?" Lovino nodded. "Good," said Roma, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes satisfactorily.

"He got a girlfriend yet?"

"Y-Yeah. A German girl." Antonio understood what they were saying and perked up, listening.

"German, eh?" Lovino nodded again. "With the big tits and everything?" Roma made a motion in front of his chest as if grabbing a breast.

Roma whistled, a smile spreading across his white lips. "I always liked them German girls. He's done good for himself, Feliciano." He opened his eyes and stared intently at Lovino, the smile gone.

"Maybe if you just-" he began to say, but Lovino bit his lip, steeling himself, and grabbed Antonio's hand, hauling him to his feet. Antonio dropped his book.

"Hey-" he began to say, but Lovino just pulled Antonio to the door. Before he knew what he was doing there, Lovino had slammed the door and started down the stairs. Halfway down he looked over his shoulder at Antonio.

"Come on," he said, jerking his head towards the end of the stairwell. Reluctantly Antonio followed.

"What was that?" he asked as he neared Lovino's silhouetted form.

"Nothing," replied Lovino bitterly. "Let's just go." Antonio stood there a moment, dumbstruck.

"Come on!" Lovino insisted, pulling Antonio's arm forcefully, causing him to trip a few steps. Righting himself, he turned around to face Lovino.

"Seriously," said Antonio. "What did he say to you?"

Lovino barged past Antonio, knocking him against the wall, and down the stairs. Antonio heard the sound of the door slamming. He stood there for a moment, watching the dust motes collect in the air. Finally he managed to pull himself away from the wall and run down the stairs after Lovino.

The fresh cool air on Antonio's face was a relief from the cramped, heated atmosphere of the staircase and subsequent apartment, but as he blinked, his eyes stung by the natural light, he couldn't see Lovino anywhere.

"Lovi?" he called, a hand to his mouth. There was no response. He wandered aimlessly around the grounds, yelling Lovino's name occasionally, but nothing happened. Disenchanted, he leaned against a tree and crossed his arms, wondering where else he could be.

As he was deep in thought, a pair of feet kicked him in the forehead. Antonio yelped in surprise and pain, and the pair of feet did too. There was a rustling of leaves and then a thin figure fell out of the tree and onto Antonio, bringing them both to the ground.

"What the-" Antonio and the person said at the same time. Recognizing the voice, Antonio hesitantly opened one eye, and then the other, only to see Lovino's face inches away from his own.

"What are you doing here?" they said together.

"I was looking for you. What are you doing here?" said Antonio. He was slightly distracted by the fact that Lovino's face was barely four inches from his own, that his skin, silhouetted by the evening light seemed to glow, that his hair was falling down around his face, shaping and softening it, that his lips were a delicate pink like the inside of a shell and full and parted slightly, that his eyes were like pools of green-brown that Antonio could feel himself start to drown in…

"I was…" Lovino searched for the right word. He could feel his face heat up and redden under Antonio's inspective gaze, but even though he willed it to, his body wouldn't move, rooted to the spot right above Antonio… Every imperfection made Antonio's face just seem all the more perfect. The corners of his mouth were slightly curved upwards, remnants of his permanent smile; his eyes were a brilliant green, contrasting against his dark skin. As Lovino noticed all this and more, he saw that there was a stray eyelash on Antonio's right cheek.

"Lovino?"

"I-" Lovino stammered, urging himself to say something, anything, but he was tongue-tied and could only look helplessly at that one goddamn fucking eyelash… _god,_ he wanted to brush it off, it was annoying the shit out of him, but if he did, Antonio could mistake that gesture for something else…

_Well, what would be so bad if he did?_ one part of his brain said, the part that still loved Antonio, despite all the mental locks he had set for himself, barring himself from merely thinking about Antonio, about how gorgeous he looked in the sun, a slight sheen of sweat making his skin glisten; the way he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows so that they bunched there and exposed his godly forearms oh holy _fuck; _that special expression he reserved only for Lovino...

_No. No. **No!**_

Lovino shook his head frantically.

"Is… is there something on my face?" Antonio lifted an arm and tapped his nose with it.

"Um. Yeah. Other side," mumbled Lovino.

"Here?"

_Wrong cheek._

"No- here.." Lovino gently took Antonio's hand, feeling something inside his chest twist, and moved it to his right cheek. It was a moment before Lovino remembered to take his hand off of Antonio's.

"Thanks." He brushed it away impatiently. "Uh, would you mind getting off?"

"Wha-" Lovino began indignantly, but then he looked down and realized that he was indeed on top of Antonio.

"You-" his face flooded with color as he drew back his wrist and slapped Antonio across the face, jumping off of him.

"You creep!" he spat.

"Huh? I'm the creep?! You were the one on top of me!"

"No I wasn't!"

"You totally were!"

"I was not!" harrumphed Lovino, crossing his arms and tossing his head angrily.

"Okay, fine, fine, whatever," Antonio groaned, knowing that there was no point in arguing, even though he knew he was right.

"But.." he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "What were you doing up there?"

"Contemplating the meaning of life."

"Whoa, seriously?"

"No! How stupid can you get?"

"Uh.. I don't know, how can you?"

"Very, apparently," Lovino grimaced. "What were you doing?"

"Looking for you."

"Under a tree?"

"I was right though, wasn't I?"

Lovino tsked, unwilling to admit that Antonio was correct.

"So?" prodded Antonio.

"So it's none of your business."

"Were you upset?"

"N-No!"

"Ah, so you were."

"I said I wasn't, you jerk!"

"What were you upset about?"

"I'm not fucking upset!"

"Then why'd you run off?"

"Because.." Lovino let the words swill around in his mouth. "I was pissed off."

"Okay, why were you pissed off then?"

Lovino chewed his lip, trying to decide whether or not to confess. "He- Roma, I mean- well, he always- this is going to sound bad, but-"

"Just say it."

"He.. he… he never once asked me any- any thing about m-myself, just if I was c-c-cured yet!"

"Lovi.." Antonio rested a hand on Lovino's knee, but he smacked it away impatiently.

"Not even one question- just a 'how are you' or something would have been nice- all he cares is if I'm-" Lovino struck the ground with his fist. "And then he just- just asks about Feliciano! Nothing about me- just if he's doing well, how his art is going, if- if he's gotten a girlfriend yet…"

Antonio didn't know what to say and instead rubbed Lovino's back encouragingly.

"I'm so fucking tired of lying for Feli- I mean, he didn't for me! And sometimes I think, yeah, I'm gonna do it, he should- should- hell, I don't know, but- I worry that even if Roma knew, it would still be the- the same! That I'll be the b-b-bad one and he-" Lovino broke off.

"I'm sure he… well, he's probably just confused. By you and what you are- I mean, lots of people don't understand. They think it's… disgusting, or perverse, or simply.. wrong, but that doesn't mean it necessarily is."

"Yeah? How would you know? Do you find me disgusting too?" Lovino spat.

"I know because I've been in the same situation as you," Antonio said quietly. Lovino looked up at him quickly, an expression of disbelief and surprise visible.

"R-Really? You're… like me?"

"Sort of." Antonio gave a half-laugh, half-sigh. It wasn't meant to be humorous. "I'm bi."

"Hello?" Lovino's brow furrowed.

"No, no," laughed Antonio, for real now. "It stands for bisexual."

"Bi… sexual? What's that?"

"It's when you are attracted to people of both genders. Like, you like boys and girls." Antonio explained.

"That's a thing? You can do that?"

"Sure I can."

Lovino milled over this for a moment, doodling spiral patterns in the dirt beneath them with his index finger. He made a mistake and tsk'ed, rubbing it out and starting over.

"You said- you've been in my situation before… did you get kicked out, too?" Lovino said, blushing slightly with embarrassment for asking such a personal question.

"No, my parents were mostly fine with it." Antonio leaned back against the tree and stretched. "But I had some problems in high school."

"Really?" Lovino asked quickly, almost excitedly, and then flushed darker. "Sorry. I mean. Not sorry. Because I don't- I don't care."

Antonio laughed, a deep, rumbling laugh from the pit of his stomach that flew out his mouth, whistling through his teeth like a flock of birds. It gathered in the air and Lovino felt something inside him lift, like someone had removed a weight from his belly.

Antonio reached over and ruffled Lovino's hair affectionately. "Don't you ever change," he laughed.

"What the- gerroff!" Lovino snarled, but he couldn't suppress a giggle too.

"But seriously," Antonio continued, a definite graveness that hadn't been there a moment ago present in his voice. He let his hand slip off of Lovino's head and it fell, wooden, to the dirt. Lovino almost wished it had lingered just a minute longer.

"It.." he shook his head, a confused dog exiting water. "It was awful. I don't really have any words for it, but I get the feeling I don't need them." He looked up and straight into Lovino's eyes, and then through them, into Lovino himself… Lovino couldn't, with all his strength, pull away. Just with this simple contact, he could feel his heart begin to speed up so much it almost hurt. The back of his throat went dry. He could feel himself shaking, Antonio's gaze was so intense, and so… sad, so old, like Lovino had never seen before. Antonio was never without a smile or a bad joke, and seeing him so honest, so raw… for some reason, it made Lovino happy, almost, that it was he who was seeing this, him and not Emma; yes, it was to he whom Antonio was entrusting his truest self.

"You- you know, right?" Antonio whispered, his voice but a hiss and yet so loud, deafening, almost.

"Yeah." The words stuck in Lovino's throat. He shifted his hand a little to the left, laying it gently on top of Antonio's without breaking eye contact.

Antonio drew a sharp breath. He looked down at their hands, joined together, and quickly pulled his out from under Lovino's, holding it to his chest and looking away. He stood up suddenly, turned away so Lovino couldn't see his expression. Lovino, stunned, just looked at him, his movements still sluggish, his heartbeat still rapid.

"We should go back," Antonio said sharply. "It's getting late."

Lovino was about to protest that it wasn't that late, it was only seven-thirty, but the harsh tone of Antonio's voice jerked him into alertness and obedience. He got up. Antonio was already several paces ahead, striding towards the apartment swiftly. Lovino followed.

_Emma and only Emma,_ chanted Antonio under his breath, where Lovino couldn't hear.

_Emma and only Emma._

* * *

_To the reviewer who was offended by my portrayal of Italians:_

_I'm very sorry you were offended. I myself am Italian, and my uncle, upon returning to Italy received this sort of treatment and so I am basing it off of that. In the southern region of Italy, particularly in small, poor, rural areas, hatred breeds and is expressed more easily, and so that too is a factor of Lovino's treatment. _

_And thank you for the Italian language advice. I asked my mother for some assistance, but was too nervous to ask how to say the word 'faggot' so I instead googled it, which is most likely why I got it wrong._

_Thank you to all reviewers._


End file.
